


The Existential Crisis of Ingrid Brandl Galatea

by Werederg



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Angst, F/F, I mean they're at war so, Ingrid's dad is an asshole, Post-Timeskip | War Phase (Fire Emblem: Three Houses), Sylvain & Ingrid brotp, she's figuring stuff out, technically the world of a crimson flower run but we start in the blue lions perspective, trans man Ingrid, well sort of
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-02-16
Updated: 2020-12-18
Packaged: 2021-02-28 04:06:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 21,313
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22757506
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Werederg/pseuds/Werederg
Summary: Sylvain’s eyes brighten when he sees her. “Hey, Ingrid, you’re back!” He says, his face breaking into smile as he gets up to greet her. “How was--” He starts.“Hey, you usually cut Felix’s hair, right?” Ingrid asks, her face impassive, but her tone a little forceful.Sylvain looks a little taken aback at first, his smile faltering slightly, but he recovers quickly. “Um, yeah, when I can convince him to stop training long enough to let me,” He says, furrowing his brow a little.“Do, um, do you think you could cut mine?”------------------------Ingrid has an identity crisis in the middle of the war
Relationships: Dorothea Arnault/Ingrid Brandl Galatea, Felix Hugo Fraldarius/Sylvain Jose Gautier, Ingrid Brandl Galatea & Sylvain Jose Gautier
Comments: 35
Kudos: 126





	1. A new look

**Author's Note:**

> Okay, cool, first fire emblem fic.  
> The only thing that I love more than Lesbian Ingrid Brandl Galatea, is Gender Non-Conforming Ingrid Brandl Galatea. Basically, I read one really cool comic on Tumblr and I couldn't stop thinking about this idea, so I wrote something. I'm going to try to link the comic, let me know if it doesn't work.  
> https://cloudhime.tumblr.com/post/188531373985
> 
> Dorothea doesn't come in until the next chapter, assuming I end up writing it. This is a crimson flower run, so the professor is with the black eagles. I'm going to be avoiding post-time skip dimitri as much as I can because I haven't actually done a blue lions play through yet. I might accidently add in some Sylvain/Felix also, but we'll see.

Ingrid dismounts from her pegasus once she arrives at camp. She leads her steed into the stable, running a hand through her disheveled hair. Her hand grips a little too tightly at the roots before threading down the long strands that fall just above her shoulders. There is a slightly greasy residue on her hair, reminding her that she hasn’t bathed since departing to house Galatea. Her chest suddenly grows tighter and her face hotter as her father’s words echo in her head:

“ _ You are a daughter of my house and you will do as I say!” Ingrid’s father shouts as their argument escalates. _

_ “Then perhaps I am not your daughter,” Ingrid finds herself murmuring, much too quiet for her father to know what she has said. Still he notices. _

_ “What did you say? Only cowards hide behind mumbles and murmurs,” Her father sneers, his face contorted in disgust. _

_ Ingrid hardly believes the words that come out of her mouth. “I said, I am not your daughter!” Ingrid finds herself shouting, uncaring of who may overhear. _

_ There is a deafening silence as her words hang heavy and meaningful in the air. Ingrid’s breath comes in short, desperate puffs and she realizes that her hands are clenched tightly at her sides. She can’t bring her gaze up to see her father’s reaction. When he finally speaks, it cuts right through her. _

_ “Leave my sight.” Her father’s tone is cruel and cold. “You are a traitor to this family and I will not have you ruin what is left of our name.” _

_ There are a thousand things that Ingrid still wants to say to her father in that moment. She wants to scream at him all the things she’s only said in her head for years. She wants to apologize and beg his forgiveness. But she bites her tongue and nods, turning to leave. She runs to her pegasus, not wanting her father to see her cry. On the ride back to camp, the wind whips her face painfully and she pretends that that is the reason there are tears in her eyes. _

Ingrid finds her feet taking her around the military outpost that she is currently stationed at. It sits close to the frontline of war, where the empire and the kingdom meet. They are moving out on a special mission in a day. There are many soldiers milling around the encampment, making preparations for the coming battle. Ingrid maneuvers through the gathered soldiers, not really hearing it when one of them greets her and not really feeling it when she accidentally stumbles into another.

Once Ingrid reaches the dormitory area, instead of going to her own room, she finds herself in front of Sylvain’s door. She doesn’t really take the time to consider why she is there before knocking of the slightly ajar door.

“Yeah?” Sylvain’s familiar voice calls from inside the room. 

Hearing her friend’s voice relaxes Ingrid slightly. She pushes into his room and gives him a nod of greeting when he turns to see her. “Hey,” Ingrid greets, her voice toneless in an attempt to keep it steady.

Sylvain’s eyes brighten when he sees her. “Hey, Ingrid, you’re back!” He says, his face breaking into smile as he gets up to greet her. “How was--” He starts.

“Hey, you usually cut Felix’s hair, right?” Ingrid asks, her face impassive, but her tone a little forceful.

Sylvain looks a little taken aback at first, his smile faltering slightly, but he recovers quickly. “Um, yeah, when I can convince him to stop training long enough to let me,” He says, furrowing his brow a little.

“Do, um, do you think you could cut mine?”

Sylvain raises an eyebrow. “Um, wouldn’t you rather have Mercedes do it? She’ll probably be better at whatever you want,” Sylvain says uncertainly, a small uncomfortable smile flickering across his face.

Ingrid’s gaze falls to her feet, kicking around some of the dust she has dragged in. “I, um, I don’t think she would be comfortable with how short I want it,” Ingrid says, her voice growing quiet and uncertain.

Something clicks for Sylvain in that moment and the crease in his brow smooths out. “Okay, yeah, do you want to do it now?” He asks. 

When Ingrid nods, Sylvain moves to get out his supplies. He moves his chair over by the mirror in his room and motions for Ingrid to sit. He hands her a cloak to catch the hair and she takes it wordlessly as he continues to rummage for the rest of his things. They always get moved around when he travels. After a moment, he sets down a pair of scissors, a razor, shaving cream, and a small hand held mirror down on the dresser.

“So, how short do you want it?” Sylvain says, trying to sound as nonchalant as possible. When Ingrid doesn’t respond, he continues, “Like, do you want it about Felix’s length, or my length?” He runs a hand through his red locks to exhibit the length.

Ingrid takes a long moment to respond, gaze far away as she considers. “Shorter,” is all she says, her voice starting to sound a little unsteady.

“Shorter than mine?” Sylvain clarifies.

Ingrid nods and stares straight ahead at the mirror.

_ Easier than with Felix, Ingrid will actually sit still _ , Sylvain thinks to himself as he sets to work. He starts off cutting large swaths of hair, a little hesitantly at first, but once he sees the way that Ingrid sighs in relief as the hair is removed, he throws away his doubts.

A few times as he works, Sylvain asks Ingrid a question. At first he asks her what kind fo style she wants or what she wants it to look like. However those questions are met with silence. Sylvain picks up on this quickly, figuring that Ingrid didn’t really think that far ahead. He moves to more specific questions that are easier to answer. Do you want this shorter? A nod. Do you want the part to be here? A shaking head. Do you want to keep the sideburns? Another shake. Do you want me to shave the sides? Another nod.

It takes a while, Sylvain having to use his best intuition and coach answers out Ingrid, but eventually they are close to done. Heaps of Ingrid's lay on the floor and small pieces are scatter on the cloak around her shoulders. The final product is certainly miles away from the long braid she had sported in their days at the monastery, but Sylvain can’t help but think that the new cut suits her quite well.

“So, what do you think?” Sylvain asks. “I still need to go over the sides with the razor and trim the top and back a little, but this should be it.”

Ingrid stares into her own reflection for a long time, her gaze intense. She takes a long, deep breath before nodding, the smallest of smiles twitching at the corner of her mouth. Sylvain can’t help the cocky smile that comes onto his own face in response.

“Honestly, I think this is some of my best work,” Sylvain says smugly as he applies shaving cream to Ingrid’s head. “I mean, that fade alone is worthy of the Goddess herself.”

Ingrid snorts but says nothing.

“Felix is going to be so jealous. Honestly, I’m a little jealous,” Sylvain jokes.

Ingrid rolls her eyes and shakes her head at Sylvain’s antics, but she can’t keep the smile off her face.

“Hey, don’t move,” Sylvain scolds lightly. “Unless you want me to accidentally cut you.”

The two friends fall into comfortable silence for a while. When Sylvain is wiping the excess shaving cream off, moving to start cleaning up his supplies, he finally addresses the elephant in the room.

“So, I take it your trip home didn’t go so well,” Sylvain says, almost casually.

Ingrid freezes a little, but then just sighs, her fingers picking absently at a tear in the cushion of Sylvain’s chair. “Yeah,” She confirms, her voice catching. 

Suddenly, Ingrid gets to her feet and looks Sylvain in the eyes. “Hey, Sylvain, would it be okay, I mean, once the war is over, do you think… Could stay with you for a little bit?” Ingrid struggles to ask, her gaze immediately falling to the floor once she’s done.

Sylvain’s eyes go a little wide. He didn’t expect Ingrid’s visit to have gone that badly, seeing as Ingrid is really not one to make trouble. Sylvain schools his response and takes a step closer to his friend. “Ingrid, war or no war, whatever happens, you’ll always be welcome at House Gautier.”

The next thing Sylvain knows, Ingrid’s arms are wrapped around him in a slightly too tight hug. He raises his arms to encircle her shoulders, holding her for a long moment in a solid grip. He hears her mumble a thanks from where her face is buried into his shoulder. When Ingrid eventually pulls away, she quickly wipes at her eyes.

Sylvain puts on his best teasing smirk and gives his friend a little jab in the side. “Oh, come on, Ingrid, don’t get sappy on me. My father always liked you, anyways. I’m sure he’ll be happy to have you there to keep me in line.”

Ingrid laughs and shoves Sylvain in response. He stumbles back a little and laughs with her.

“Okay, okay. I’ll see you later, Sylvain. I’m going to go rest a little,” Ingrid says, her exhaustion starting to weigh on her. She moves toward the door.

“Alright, but, hey, don’t forget if anyone compliments your hair, you’ve gotta tell them it was me. Ladies love a guy that can cut hair,” Sylvain calls after, a smirk on his face. He can hear an exasperated laugh from outside the door and he smiles.

After a moment, Sylvain sighs at the mess of hair on his floor. He can probably get away with not cleaning it up, considering they are leaving the next day. Still, looking down at the discarded hair, he finds himself considering what it is he has just done and what might happen next. He realizes after a moment, that in all of his worrying about whether or not he was going to accidentally say something stupid to Ingrid, he forgot to consider how everyone else might react. Sylvain’s eyes go wide for a second before he spins on his heels and heads out the door. He just hopes that Ingrid doesn’t encounter any of their allies on her way to her room.

Sylvain knocks on Mercedes’s door, thankful that he finds both her and Annette there when she opens the door.

“Hey, Mercedes, Annette,” Sylvain greets tritely.

Mercedes and Annette share a look, both in suspicion of why he is there and of his unusual demeanor. 

“Well, hello, Sylvain, how can we help you?” Mercedes says as sweet as always.

“Okay, well, I just gave Ingrid a haircut,” Sylvain says, running a hand through his hair.

“Oh, dear, and you need us to fix it?” Mercedes finishes for him.

Sylvain scowls for a second before shaking his head. “What, no, it looks great. It’s just a little… different than usual. So like try not to be surprised or weird about it, I think she’s a little insecure.”

“What’s so different about it?” Annette pipes in from further in the room.

“It’s shorter.”

“Well, what’s so strange about that? Mine is fairly short right now,” Mercedes says, gesturing to her own hair.

“Well, it’s shorter than that. It’s shorter than, well, mine.”

Both Mercedes and Annette’s eyes go wide.

“Oh my, that is quite short,” Mercedes absently. “It’s a shame to cut such beautiful hair.”

Annette nods in agreement.

“Yeah, see that’s what I’m hoping to avoid. Probably don’t say that stuff to Ingrid, okay?”

Mercedes and Annette consider it for a moment, before agreeing.

“Awesome, thanks,” Sylvain says, turning to leave. “And for the record, Mercedes, I’m an amazing hairdresser,” Sylvain calls over his shoulder.

Once Sylvain is gone, Mercedes and Annette turn to each other with similarly confused and concerned looks.

“That was certainly strange,” Mercedes comments.

“I know, right. This must be serious. He didn’t even compliment us once!” Annette exclaims. Mercedes nods gravely in agreement.

Sylvain finds Felix, predictably, in the training area, sword in his hand, sweat on his brow. Sylvain watches him practice for a minute, considering the best way to approach Felix about this. Felix, however, beats him to it, when he stops pulverizing a dummy and turns to address him.

“I can assure you, Sylvain, that there are no women for you to flirt with here. I suggest you look somewhere else,” Felix calls from across the training area, mild irritation in his voice.

Sylvain is broken out of his thoughts and walks over to Felix, much to Felix’s distaste. “I’m a little offended, Felix. How do you know I didn’t come to train?”

Felix raises a skeptical eyebrow.

“Alright, fair. I actually wanted to talk to about something.”

“Well, I’m busy.”

“You’re always busy, besides, it’s time sensitive.”

Felix folds his arms across his chest. “Alright, get on with then.”

“Right, so, I just gave Ingrid a haircut, and it’s a bit different than what you’d expect.”

“And I care, why?”

Sylvain sighs, remembering who he was talking to. He didn’t need to beat around the bush. “It’s really, short, okay. Shorter than mine. Just don’t be weird when you see her, or, at least, don’t be weirder than usual.”

Felix considers his words for a brief moment before nodding and turning back to his training.

Sylvain shakes his head at his friend as he walks away. As difficult as Felix is, Sylvain knows that he can trust him.

Ingrid wakes up in her bed to a growling in her stomach. She blinks the sleep from her eyes and moves a hand to her face to push her hair away. She freezes when she doesn’t find her hair there. She lets out a long breath and runs her hand up and through her newly cut hair, feeling the short strands against her palm. A small smile flickers across her face as she pulls her hand away and gets up. She wipes her hand off on her pants to get rid of the few stray specks of hair lingering from the haircut as she heads out of her room, toward the dining hall. 

As Ingrid makes her way to the dining hall, she can feel people’s eyes on her. A few times, she can see people turn to talk to someone next to them as soon as she walks by and her face heats up when they look at her. She grows more and more self conscious as she nears the dining hall. If she wasn’t so hungry, she’d probably just turn around and go back to her room.

Ingrid keeps her eyes on the ground when she enters the dining hall, trying to ignore all the people looking at her. She’s halfway to the food line when she hears Sylvain call to her.

“Hey, Ingrid!”

Ingrid looks up to see Sylvain bounding over to her, a familiar smile on his face. She gives him a small smile back as he joins her in line.

“I was wondering when you would show up. I know you’re tired, but I’ve never seen you miss a meal,” Sylvain teases, throwing an arm around Ingrid.

Ingrid rolls her eyes at him, but doesn’t make him move his arm. “Well, we are heading out tomorrow. I’ve got to keep my strength up,” She says, eyeing the food that she is a few people away from getting. It’s not great food, military rations being the bare minimum of what is considered a meal, but she enjoys it either way.

Sylvain laughs and proceeds to tell her about a girl he’s been flirting with for the past couple of days. Ingrid rolls her eyes and scolds him, but listens closely all the same. Ingrid happily accepts her rations when she reaches the end of the line. Her and Sylvain then head over to the table of their friends.

Mercedes and Annette sit next to each other on one side of the table. On the other side, Felix sits next to Sylvain’s temporarily abandoned food tray. Sylvain swings his legs over the bench and pats the seat next to him for Ingrid to take. Ingrid places her food down and takes the seat, forgetting her self consciousness in favor of eating.

Mercedes and Annette’s eyes immediately find Ingrid’s haircut. Their eyes go a little wide and they share a look, but they manage not to say anything. Sylvain gives them a small approving nod. Felix doesn’t even bother to look up when Ingrid gets there, his head bent down toward his food.

“Anyways, where was I? So this girl…” Sylvain starts, a smirk look on his face.

Felix lets out a groan, effectively interrupting Sylvain. “Goddess, nobody wants to hear you blather on about girls, Sylvain,” Felix snaps, finally raising his head up to glare at Sylvain.

“Well, geez, what do you want to talk about, Felix? The fact that in the next battle we'll probably fighting people we know, people who used to be our friends?” Sylvain says, a little aggressively.

Felix only grunts in response, and an awkward silence stretches between the friends. It takes a long moment for anyone to break it.

“So, anyways, it’s good to have you back, Ingrid,” Annette says with a smile. “How was your trip home?”

Ingrid freezes and swallows instinctively before she is ready, causing her to choke a little on her food. She coughs a few times, spewing chunks of food on the table as Sylvain pats her on the back. After a moment, she manages to breath again, her face still red for a number of reasons.

“Oh goddess,” Ingrid murmurs, coughing a few more times to clear her airway. “Um, it was fine, thanks for asking,” Ingrid answers, her hoarse voice easily blamed on the food she just choked on, rather than the topic at hand.

There is another beat of awkward silence, the conversation struggling to take hold. Ingrid rubs a hand on the back of her head, feeling the small stubby hairs scrape against her palm. It’s soothing in an odd way.

“Where is it that we are going tomorrow again?” Mercedes asks.

“We’re attacking an outpost near Dorhol,” Felix answers.

“The empire is using it as a storehouse for supplies. If we raid it, it’ll give us an advantage and secure our position,” Ingrid explains, happy to talk about something other than her trip home.

“Ooo, aren’t we meeting up with Dedue there?” Annette says. “It’s been a while since I’ve seen him.”

Sylvain laughs. “Ha, with Dedue with us, there’s no way we can lose. That dude is a one man army.”

The conversations finally starts to flow a little better. Ingrid falls into the background, occasionally commenting, but mostly focusing on eating. She’s glad that they are able to relax a little before the battle in a few days. It’s been tense lately, the war really taking a toll on all of them.

Once they finish dining, the friends go their separate ways. Annette and Mercedes retire to their rooms. Sylvain presumably goes to attempt to flirt with some of the female soldiers stationed at the outpost. Ingrid considers going back to her room, but she finds herself feeling restless, so she catches Felix before she loses sight of him.

“Hey, Felix!” Ingrid calls after him.

He turns around with arms crossed, a slight scowl on his face. Although, Ingrid hardly notices his irritated demeanor, considering he always looks like that.

“You want to get some training in tonight?” Ingrid asks.

“Sure,” Felix says with a sharp nod, immediately heading towards the training grounds without looking to see if Ingrid is following.

Ingrid hastens a little to catch up to him. She falls into step beside him and they walk in silence. When they reach the training grounds, they retrieve their respective weapons and meet in the middle of the sparring area. With only one word to signal the start of combat, the two begin to spar.

They go for about an hour before stopping to take a break, both Ingrid and Felix sweating and breathing heavy. Ingrid takes a drink from her water pouch and is a little startled when she looks up and finds Felix looking at her a little more intensely than usual. She raises an eyebrow at him, but says nothing.

It takes Felix a moment to finally say what is on his mind, but when he does, it sounds like everything else he says, matter of fact and vaguely irritated.

“Your new haircut appears to be very efficient. You don’t have to worry about tying it up so it doesn’t get in your eyes. It leaves you more prepared for a surprise attack,” Felix says, tonelessly.

While nothing about Felix’s words or the tone he says them in should imply that they were a compliment of any kind, Ingrid knows that the fact that he chose to say anything at all means that he cares. She can’t help smiling a little.

“Well, I suppose I have to give some credit to Sylvain,” Ingrid says with mock reluctance.

A small smile cracks on Felix’s face. “No you don’t. He’s got a big enough ego as it is,” Felix says, vaguely amused.

Ingrid laughs at that as they make their way back into the middle of the sparing area to resume training.


	2. Night out

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Dorothea?” Ingrid exclaims a little dumbly, startled out of her food stupor.
> 
> Dorothea turns to face Ingrid at the sound of her name, her flowing brown hair shifting elegantly over her shoulder as she does so. She is dressed in a beautiful red dress that brings out the green in her eyes and compliments her body well. Her gaze lands on Ingrid and her brow immediately furrows, confusion clear on her face.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ayyyyy, how's it going?  
> I'm glad you guys are enjoying this. Thank for all the kudos and special thanks to any commentors. <3  
> This chapter shifts focus a little, exploring the war more. Sylvain's scene in this chapter got away from me a little, but I'm pretty proud of how it turned out, so I hope you guys like it too. Also, it only gets angstier from here folks!

The next morning, the soldiers finish preparing supplies and the army heads off west toward their next objective. Ingrid rides her horse along side Sylvain at a relatively relaxed pace for most of the trip, allowing Felix to keep up with them on foot. Sylvain offered for Felix to ride with him, but Felix refused, grumbling something about extra conditioning. They chat a bit as they travel, Sylvain occasionally wandering off to offer a female soldier the extra seat in his saddle, usually with some unfortunate innuendo attached. After one too many times of Sylvain embarrassing himself, although he doesn’t seem ashamed at all, Ingrid scolds him and bans him from wandering too far.

Eventually, the sun begins to set and the army veers off into the nearby forest to make camp for the night. They are only a few stones’ throws away from what will be their target the next morning. Additionally, to the south, there is a small city named Relkin that has declared itself an unofficial no combat zone. Neither army has broken this agreement, and so it has remained a sort of safe zone for the civilians that live near the boarder.

“So, you guys wanna head down south for the night and see what Relkin has to offer?” Sylvain asks once they have finished setting up their tents.

Felix scoffs and pulls out one of his swords to begin sharpening it. Clearly, he is not interested.

Ingrid at least considers Sylvain’s proposal, although she is equally disapproving. “Is the night before a battle really the time to see the sights, Sylvain? We need to be prepared and rested for tomorrow.”

“Oh come on, it’ll be fun. We need to loosen up a little tonight, otherwise we’ll be too tense and worried when we fight tomorrow.”

Ingrid gives him a skeptical look, clearly doubting his logic.

Sylvain sighs in exasperation before continuing to try and convince her. “Well, you know what they have in cities? Restaurants. Restaurants where they serve real meals, like the ones we haven’t had in months. Tell me that wouldn’t get you ready for battle,” Sylvain concludes, looking a little smug when he sees the look on Ingrid’s face.

Ingrid stops listen as soon as Sylvain says restaurants. She had forgotten about how long it’s been since she had really good food. To be fair, it’s not like she’ll be out all night, and it will save the army a ration if she eats somewhere else tonight.

“Well?” Sylvain prompts, a bright, mischievous look in his eye.

“I suppose one meal couldn’t hurt…” Ingrid concedes, much to Sylvain’s delight. Felix scoffs at the both of them as they prepare their horses to travel once more.

Upon arriving at the city, Ingrid declines Sylvain’s offer to join him in where he is going. She is more hoping for a peaceful meal by herself, than a night spent reigning in Sylvain’s worst habits. She bids him farewell with a stern warning that if he is not back at camp by the start of the second watch shift, she will hunt him down. He seems to take her seriously, having the decency to look a little nervous as they part ways.

Ingrid takes a moment to just walk through the city, reveling a little in being able to let go of her self consciousness in a crowd of strangers. There is no one there that knows her and will ask difficult questions or point out things that Ingrid really wishes to ignore. Once she has appreciated the feeling enough, Ingrid lets her stomach guide her to a nearby restaurant.

Ingrid enjoys her meal thoroughly. The creative flavors and good ingredients allow Ingrid to lose herself in the experience and forget about the world outside, about the war and all of her other troubles. However, due to Ingrid’s eating habits, the meal is over quite soon. She exits the establishment, full and content, with plans to head back to camp and sleep the night away.

Ingrid only gets a few feet out of the restaurant before she is confronted with a familiar face. She freezes in her tracks and calls her name before she can think better of it.

“Dorothea?” Ingrid exclaims a little dumbly, startled out of her food stupor.

Dorothea turns to face Ingrid at the sound of her name, her flowing brown hair shifting elegantly over her shoulder as she does so. She is dressed in a beautiful red dress that brings out the green in her eyes and compliments her body well. Her gaze lands on Ingrid and her brow immediately furrows, confusion clear on her face.

Ingrid realizes several of her mistakes all at the same time, her face growing red when Dorothea’s confused eyes meet her own.  _ Since when is it a good idea to call to an enemy soldier when you are at war? Plus, why would Dorothea even recognize or remember her at-- _ \- Ingrid is quickly broken out of her thoughts by Dorothea’s response.

“Ingrid?” Dorothea says, a very large amount of surprise attached to that one word. Ingrid had forgotten how beautiful her voice was, sweet and melodic. Dorothea takes a step toward Ingrid, her gaze curious and examining.

Ingrid laughs nervously under Dorothea’s scrutiny. “Yeah, hi,” Ingrid greets awkwardly, not really sure of what else to say. Her hand runs self consciously over her short hair.

“Oh my,” Dorothea breaths out, her eyes clearly focused on Ingrid’s hair. 

Ingrid’s heart beats faster and her hands clench unconsciously, uncertain of what Dorothea will say next.

“Don’t you look handsome?” Dorothea finishes, a bright smile breaking out on her face. Her eyes gleam a little as she gives Ingrid a final once over, nodding once she’s done as if in approval.

Ingrid’s hands instantly relax, although her heart rate only speeds up at the compliment. “Oh,” Ingrid murmurs, ducking her head and rubbing the stubby hairs on the back of her neck nervously, “thanks.”

Ingrid’s shyness only serves to make Dorothea smile more. “Well, it has certainly been a long time since I have seen you. How are you, my Ingrid?” Dorothea says sweetly.

Ingrid’s face grows redder at the nickname. She ducks her head further down, certain she looks like a silly child in attempting to hide her expression. “I am well, thank you,” Ingrid chokes out, “and how are you?”

Ingrid hears Dorothea’s pleased laugh at her embarrassed reaction and almost raises her head up just to see the amused smile on the woman’s face.

“I am managing,” Dorothea answers, a slight sad undercurrent in her tone, though she hides it well, “this is certainly not what I had expected my life would become, but there is little to be done.” 

Ingrid’s head finally rises to see the slightly wilted smile on Dorothea’s face. Ingrid almost wishes she hadn’t asked so as not to see sadness in Dorothea’s usually joyful eyes. She feels the sudden urge to rectify this mistake, even though it is hardly her fault to begin with, but her mouth is moving before she can think it through properly.

“Well, you know, a good meal usually helps me when I need a break from the world. I was just at this place down the road…” Ingrid says, awkwardly turning around to gesture in the direction of the restaurant before she is cut off by Dorothea’s laugh. It is a pleasant sound and Ingrid enjoys it, despite being quite sure that Dorothea is somewhat laughing at her.

“Oh, Ingrid,” Dorothea sighs in a way that makes Ingrid’s breath catch. “You always did have such a love of food. Unfortunately, I don’t believe that it provides the same escape for me as it does for you,” She says kindly, but there is that sadness in her tone again, and it manages to loosen Ingrid’s tongue again.

“Well, then what do you prefer?” Ingrid asks, actually meeting Dorothea’s eyes this time.

Dorothea doesn’t seem to expect this questions, as it takes her a second to really react at all. Once she does, it is with a hand placed on her chin in a theatrical motion of consideration and a thoughtful noise. “I suppose I’ve always been fond of the theater. A good play or opera can really take you way from the world for a bit,” Dorothea says with a practiced smile.

“Oh! I saw a theater down that way that had a performance posted. The name was something about a proposal and flowers, I believe,” Ingrid says, her brow furrowing as she tried to remember the title more accurately.

“A Proposal of Roses?” 

“Yes! That’s the one! Would you like to go see it?” Ingrid asks, impulsively.

A sly smile spreads across Dorothea’s face. “Why, Ingrid, are you offering to accompany me to the theater?” Dorothea says suggestively, “You must know what that implies.”

“Oh, um, I just, uh,” Ingrid stammers nervously, her face growing hot again. Her gaze drops to her boots as she attempts to find words to fix the situation, until she is stopped by Dorothea’s laugh.

“I’m just teasing, Ingrid, dear,” Dorothea says, an all too pleased smile on her face. “I would love to see it, and I would be honored if you would join me.”

Ingrid considers attempting to say something, but, for fear of tying her tongue in knots again and embarrassing herself further, she simply nods to Dorothea’s request, a small, nervous smile on her face.

Dorothea smiles and takes Ingrid’s arm in her own. One of Dorothea’s hands lays on the cloth underside Ingrid’s armor, her fingers resting against Ingrid’s bicep in a way that makes Ingrid feel just a bit too warm. They make their way down the city street toward the theater, Dorothea enlightening Ingrid on some of the details of the performance they are about to see, Ingrid listening close and pretending that she understands all of the words that Dorothea is saying, and both of them silently agreeing to abide by the unspoken agreement not to mention the circumstances that have brought them both to this city and what implications it will have for the morning.

It doesn’t take long for Sylvain to find a bar and start chatting up a few women at the counter. He opens with a line about saving lovely maidens from a evening of boredom, seeing as the two girls seem very impressed by his armor and will likely be impressed by the knight act. He continues with his usual routine, buying them each a drink and telling them that their smiles are so radiant that they make him forget about the sun. Unsurprisingly, it works quite well and he settles in a seat between the two girls, both of them clearly interested in him.

They ask him about his achievements as a knight and he tells them a few exaggerated stories. He goes through a few drinks as he talks, and, by the end of his third story, he finds himself relaxing in the atmosphere. It’s nice to be somewhere that isn’t full of soldiers and people talking about the war for a little while.

“So, you’re a knight for the Kingdom of Faerghus, huh?” One of the girls, Sylvain thinks her name is Breila, asks, a hand placed flirtatiously on his shoulder.

Sylvain almost visibly winces at the reminder of the war. Sure, they had been talking about him being a knight, but those were mostly silly stories he made up, some of them based of the games he played as a kid. He had been mostly trying to avoid actually talking about the current conflict.

“Um, yeah,” Sylvain answers reluctantly, trying to cover up his discomfort by taking a large swig of his drink.

“Wow, they must be lucky to have you,” The other girl, Quinn maybe, says, leaning closer to Sylvain.

Sylvain chuckles and puffs out his chest. “Well, of course they are. I’m one of the best knights in the whole of Fodlan,” He boasts effortlessly.

“Do you think you’re going to win the war?” Breila asks.

Sylvain laughs uncomfortably, his throat getting a little tight. “Oh, come on now, talk of the war is much too morbid for beautiful girls like yourselves. Wouldn’t you rather discuss something else?” Sylvain says, attempting to steer the conversation to a different topic. “How about your favorite flowers?”

“I’ve heard the Kingdom isn’t doing to well, actually, Breila,” Quinn says, seemingly ignoring Sylvain’s attempted diversion. “Mr. Rokon said that some of the nobles are even considering siding with the empire to avoid punishment.”

“That’s just a rumor, Quinn. It would be treason and heresy for any of the nobles to defect. Do you really think that any of them would give up their country and their Goddess?”

“Girls, come on, can’t we talk about something else?” Sylvain says, attempting to keep his calm and charming tone even as a pressure begins to build in his chest. Despite his efforts the words come out sound a little aggressive and a little desperate.

“Well, you’re a noble, Sylvain,” Quinn turns to him and says, as if just remembering he is there. “Would you abandon your country and faith, even if you were losing the war?”

Something in Sylvain’s chest bursts at that. “ _ I said I don’t want to talk about the war! _ ” He snaps much too loudly, his fist coming down hard on the counter in front of him and disrupting the glasses there. 

Both girls flinch at Sylvain’s sudden outburst, eyes going wide as they look around to see all the people looking at them. They both excuse themselves quickly and leave the bar, although Sylvain hardly notices. His chest feels tight, like he can’t breath. There is a ringing sound in his ears and the world around him feels weird and distorted, like when Miklan used to push his head under the surface of the lake when they were swimming. The bartender comes by to clean up the spilled drinks. He says something to Sylvain, but he doesn’t really hear it.

Sylvain sits there for a long time, taking in ragged breaths, one hand holding onto the counter in a death grip and the other clenched in a fist next to his spilled drink. Eventually, when Sylvain feels like he can hear properly again, he manages to unlatch his grip from the counter, throw some money on it for his drinks, and get up to leave. His chest still hurts as he goes to retrieve his horse and head back to camp. 

At least he’ll actually be back before the second watch shift, so Ingrid won’t have an excuse to yell at him.

Sylvain gets back to camp rather quickly, having ridden his horse just a bit harder than necessary. When he gets back, he finds Felix sharpening his back up, back up, back up sword in their shared tent, just like does before most battles. Sylvain throws his stuff down carelessly as he makes his way inside the tent, receiving a glare from Felix for his efforts. Sylvain is running a sore hand through his hair when Felix finally decides to greet him.

“What are you doing back so early? Ran through all the girls in town too quickly?” Felix sneers, distaste clear in his tone.

Sylvain’s hand freezes halfway through his hair and he turns to face Felix. “Do you have a problem, Felix?” Sylvain snaps angrily, his gaze bearing into the back of Felix’s head. “Because I would sure love to help you figure it out, so you can stop giving me shit every time I open my mouth.”

Felix scoffs but says nothing, continuing to sharpen his sword.

“No, seriously, Felix! Tell me what your problem is, so you can finally leave me the hell alone!” Sylvain continues, his voice getting louder and more aggressive as he goes. “You always say you’re too busy every time anyone tries to talk to you, and yet you always seem to have time to judge and insult me when I’m around. I feel like I’m missing something!”

“You’re a waste of space who never takes anything seriously! And you constantly blather on about the things you waste your time on, like anyone actually cares about you!” Felix finally responds, matching Sylvain’s harshness. 

Felix isn’t sure when he ended up on his feet, with his sword and sharpener discarded on the ground, but it certainly must’ve happened sometime while he was speaking. He doesn’t know why his breathing is so heavy, considering he hasn’t been doing anything physically straining, and even if he had been, he is in great shape and doesn’t get out of breath easily. And really, he has no idea why Sylvain is so upset.

“Fuck off, Felix,” Sylvain growls before stomping out of the tent.

Felix watches him go, rolling his eyes at Sylvain’s child-like behavior.

The tears are falling down Sylvain’s cheeks before he even gets far from the tent. Thankfully no one notices him stomp off into the nearby woods for some privacy. He sits down at the base of a tree, pressing his back against the trunk as he desperately tries to get control over his sobs. He hates himself for crying and for being so upset in the first place. Felix has always been mean and the world has always been terrible, so why was he crying now? He grinds his teeth together and clenches his already bruised fists to try and stop the tears from falling. 

_ Goddess, what kind of knight was he, crying on the ground in the forest because someone said something mean to him. A real knight would go back there and challenge Felix to a fight for insulting him. He should go back there and show him who was a waste of space! … Except, Felix would win… because he’s right. He is a waste of space and--- _

Sylvain is broken out of his spiral by the sound of a horn that signalled the end of the the first watch shift and the switch to the second. He doesn’t think anything of it for a second, but then he realizes he hasn’t seen Ingrid since they parted ways. He should probably go check in with her to make sure she doesn’t come hunt him down. He wipes his eyes quickly, a little more roughly than is necessary, and heads off toward Ingrid’s tent.

When Sylvain reaches Ingrid’s tent, he finds Mercedes and Annette, both asleep, but Ingrid no where to be found. He goes back to his own tent. Felix is back sharping his sword once more and Sylvain kinda just wants to kick him in the teeth for a second, but thinks better of it.

“Felix, have you see Ingrid?” Sylvain asks, taking great pains to make his voice comes out steady and neutral.

“No, did you check her tent?”

“Yes, that’s the first place I looked, obviously,” Sylvain says, some of his anger slipping through. “I asked a couple other people and they haven’t seen her either. It’s not like her to disobey her own curfew. Do you think we should look for her?”

Felix considers the idea for a second before shaking his head. “I’m sure she knows what she’s doing. Otherwise, if she did somehow get captured, there would be nothing we could do about it now. It wouldn’t change our course of action,” Felix says rather coldly.

Sylvain scowls a little at Felix’s lack of compassion for someone that should be his friend, although, he can’t say he’s surprised. “Okay,” Sylvain concedes to Felix’s reasoning reluctantly, “she probably just lost track of time…”


	3. first curtain

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ingrid doesn’t say anything for a long time, and Dorothea waits patiently for her response. Dorothea would be lying if she said she wasn’t surprised when Ingrid’s hand comes up to gently cup her cheek, her breath catching at the action. She shivers at the feeling of Ingrid’s callused palm brushing lightly against her skin. 
> 
> “Ingrid?” Dorothea breaths out, the name barely loud enough to be called a whisper.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Howdy Felons!  
> Thanks for the kudos and comments! You guys are great! Hope you enjoy this next one!

Ingrid and Dorothea are able to get fairly decent and cheap seats for the show, thanks to Dorothea knowing practically everyone in the theater business. 

“So, do you know anybody in this show?” Ingrid asks once they have taken their seats. Dorothea’s arm lays on top of Ingrid’s on the arm rest, her fingers playing lightly on the back of Ingrid’s hand. Ingrid finds herself staring a little at where Dorothea’s hand touches hers.

“I’ve done a few performances with the lead tenor. He’s very nice and quite good. I know a few of the stagehands here, too,” Dorothea answers. “Have you ever been to an opera before?”

“I’ve only seen the one that you put together at the monastery. I liked it, although, I had a little trouble following the story.”

“Well, no worries. I can fill in the gaps for you. I’ve performed this particular opera about 100 times, so I think I know it pretty well,” Dorothea says, enthusiasm sparkling in her eyes.

Ingrid is surprised at Dorothea’s excitement to see a performance she already knows so well. She considers asking Dorothea about it, but before she can think of a way to phrase it, the curtain parts and the opera begins.

Ingrid enjoys the show, thankful to have Dorothea next to her so she can quietly ask for clarification at times. At some point, Dorothea mentions that she used to preform as the female lead, and after that Ingrid can’t help but picture Dorothea up their on the stage, singing with her beautiful voice. Ingrid thinks she would’ve enjoyed seeing Dorothea perform more than whoever is up on stage now, but she definitely wouldn’t trade it for having Dorothea right by her side, their arms intertwined.

During one of the scenes, the two main characters, who are star-crossed lovers, kiss dramatically at the top of a balcony. Dorothea mumbles something about the number of different actors she had to kiss for that part and how it kinda takes away from the romance of the scene. Ingrid nods absently, eyes glued on the actors, her mind wandering. Unbidden, Ingrid’s mind imagines Dorothea in place of the female lead and herself in place of the male lead. Ingrid’s face heats up, but she can’t say she hates the warm feeling that fills her chest at the thought.

Once the opera is over, Ingrid lets Dorothea lead her out of the theater, their arms still intertwined. Despite being aware of how late it is getting, heading back to camp is the last thing on Ingrid’s mind as Dorothea laughs about one of her favorite moments of the performance. Ingrid can’t help the smile that takes over her face as she watches Dorothea talk animatedly. She hasn’t felt this light in years.

“What was your favorite part, Ingrid?” Dorothea asks, looking at Ingrid in a way that makes her feel warm.

Ingrid pauses in thought. She decides quickly not to admit that the kisses were some of her favorite parts, because she’s not sure she could explain why. Some of the other parts she enjoyed most were the ones that made Dorothea laugh, but Dorothea has already claimed those as her favorites, so Ingrid can’t choose those either. It takes a while for Ingrid to come up with an answer, but Dorothea doesn’t get impatient, only humming lightly as they walk idly through the city.

“Um, I think my favorite part was when the father pulled out the gun,” Ingrid says, her fingers fiddling with the edging of her sleeves.

Dorothea furrows her brow a little at Ingrid, waiting for her to elaborate.

“Well, I thought it was kind of funny, because I sort of could tell it was going to happen,” Ingrid tries to explain.

Dorothea tilts her head in curiosity. “How?”

“Oh, um,” Ingrid laughs a lightly. “Your grip got tighter whenever something dramatic was about to happen, and, um, you got really tense as soon as the father walked in, so I knew something important was going to happen.”

Dorothea looks away momentarily, a light redness on her cheeks. “Oh, apologies, my Ingrid. I didn’t intend to spoil anything for you,” She says, almost bashfully.

Ingrid is a little surprised to see usually so confident Dorothea looking even somewhat bashful. Ingrid thinks she actually likes seeing that side of Dorothea.

“Oh, no, it wasn’t a problem, Dorothea,” Ingrid clarifies. “I actually think I enjoyed the performance more being able to see your reactions.”

Dorothea’s blush deepens and she is quiet for a moment. Ingrid is afraid she has said something wrong, especially when Dorothea slips her arm away from Ingrid’s, but then Dorothea’s hand grasps hers, their fingers intertwining. Dorothea looks up at Ingrid, a soft expression in her beautiful green eyes.

“Have you see the park here?” Dorothea asks, her voice strangely quiet.

Ingrid shakes her head and then Dorothea is leading her by the hand, a delighted smile on her face. Ingrid can’t help but smile with her and allow herself to be pulled along.

The park is a beautiful collection of flora and fauna along with a community garden organized in the middle of the city. It looks enchanting in the moonlight, almost ethereal. Dorothea and Ingrid walk through the park for a while, enjoying the scenery in peaceful silence. Eventually, they find a bench and decide to rest there for a bit, enveloped in the quiet rustling of the wildlife.

Dorothea moves closer to Ingrid on the bench when a cold wind passes through, smiling at how Ingrid’s face heats up a little at the movement. She watches Ingrid’s face for a long moment, her former classmate’s attention lost in watching something in the distance. Dorothea takes a deep breath, preparing herself to break the peaceful atmosphere.

“You know, Ingrid, there’s something I’ve wanted to ask you all night, but I didn’t want make you uncomfortable,” Dorothea says, watching Ingrid carefully.

Ingrid breaks out of her hundred yard stare and turns to Dorothea. “Yeah?” Ingrid says, prompting Dorothea to continue. Despite, Ingrid’s attempt at a stoic expression, Dorothea can plainly see the worry on her face at what she will say next.

“Can I… feel your hair?” Dorothea asks, with a little nervous smile.

The relief on Ingrid’s face is palpable. She lets out a breath and then a laugh. “Um, yeah, sure,” Ingrid says, a relieved and uncertain smile on her face.

Dorothea’s eyes light up as she turns her body to face Ingrid. She rests her elbow on Ingrid’s leather padded shoulder, her hand hovering near the short, blond locks. Dorothea looks to Ingrid one more time to make sure it’s okay. Ingrid gives her a short nod.

Dorothea’s hand starts low on Ingrid’s neck, slowly dragging up the shaved portion. She can feel Ingrid shiver as the smallest hairs brush against her palm. The hairs get longer gradually as Dorothea’s hand travels further up. When her hand reaches the thickest part of the haircut, she doesn’t hesitate to thread her fingers in deep. She slowly drags her fingers up to the tips of Ingrid’s hair, only pausing for a moment before burying her hand back into the thick hair at a slightly different angle. 

Ingrid doesn’t know when she closed her eyes, or when she started to lean back into Dorothea, so that the songstress could reach her hair better. Ingrid certainly doesn’t know when she decided to let herself relax so much, because she feels like jelly in Dorothea’s hands. She feels like she’s being hypnotized, a soft sigh escaping her lips as Dorothea’s fingertips brush against her scalp.

“Ingrid, dear, can I say something?” Dorothea asks, sounding almost as relaxed as Ingrid is.

“Mhmm,” Ingrid hums in response, turning slightly in Dorothea’s arms, her eyes cracking open reluctantly.

Dorothea smiles a little at how adorable Ingrid looks. Then she says, her tone serious, “I just want to apologize for my behavior five years ago. I may have gotten a little ahead of myself, with all of the makeup and dressing up stuff. I should have respected the fact that you were uncomfortable with it. I’m sorry for pushing you.”

Ingrid is silent for a long moment, her expression thoughtful. Then she turns to face Dorothea, Dorothea’s hand reluctantly slipping from her hair. “It’s okay, Dorothea. You certainly weren’t the only one, and you were probably the nicest about it,” Ingrid says, her gaze a little heavy.

“Still,” Dorothea insists, taking Ingrid’s hands in hers, “I don’t want you to ever think that you can’t be yourself. I want you to know that I’m fond of you no matter what you look like or who you choose to be, my Ingrid.”

Ingrid doesn’t say anything for a long time, and Dorothea waits patiently for her response. Dorothea would be lying if she said she wasn’t surprised when Ingrid’s hand comes up to gently cup her cheek, her breath catching at the action. She shivers at the feeling of Ingrid’s callused palm brushing lightly against her skin. 

“Ingrid?” Dorothea breaths out, the name barely loud enough to be called a whisper.

Ingrid answers by pressing her lips to Dorothea’s, softly and hesitantly. Dorothea kisses her back, one of her hands moving to Ingrid’s neck to keep her close, not that Ingrid appeared to want to be anywhere else. As they kiss, one of Ingrid’s hands moves to rest on Dorothea’s waist and Dorothea’s other hand moves to thread through Ingrid’s hair once more.

After a long while, they break apart, their breathing heavy and their foreheads pressed together. 

“Wow,” Ingrid breaths out, her expression dazed.

Dorothea laughs and shakes her head a little. “You’re adorable.”

Ingrid laughs too, her face growing red.

Their laughs come to an end as they both sigh into the space between them, the breath mingling in the air there. Then, in the quiet of the dead of night, they can feel the real world start to come seeping back in on them. The cold pit of dread, reforming drop by drop as reality settles back in. They finally pull away from each other.

“It’s getting late,” Ingrid says absently, reluctant to leave, but all to aware that she can not stay.

Dorothea sighs. “Yes, it is,” she says, resigned, as she gets to her feet. “Can I walk you to your horse?”

Ingrid manages a small smile at the gesture and offers Dorothea her arm. Dorothea takes it and they head back to where Ingrid left her steed, saying little along the way. The air is heavy and hard to breath as Ingrid prepares the saddle and then turns to Dorothea to say goodbye.

“Farewell, Dorothea,” Ingrid says, trying to sound as positive as she can. She really hates seeing that broken look on Dorothea’s face.

Dorothea gives her a sad smile. “Goodbye, my Ingrid,” She says before turning away.

Ingrid’s heart aches with how final those words sound, but there is nothing that she can do. She mounts her horse and makes her way back to camp.

Ingrid arrives back at camp, sweaty and exhausted. She wishes she could just go to her tent and finally get some much needed rest, but she needs to make sure that Sylvain has made it back. Ingrid navigates the camp awkwardly in the dark. When she comes to the tent, she peers inside to find Felix already asleep in his bedroll and Sylvain sitting cross legged on his with his head bent low into his lap like he is falling asleep. But Sylvain isn’t asleep, because his head snaps up when he hears Ingrid.

“Ingrid!” Sylvain says, sounding oddly alarmed. His eyes are red around the rims and his face is pinched. He gets to his feet when he sees her.

“Sylvain, what’s wrong?” Ingrid says, furrowing her brow in concern.

Sylvain scowls. “What do you mean what’s wrong? Ingrid, you made a huge fuss about me being back before the second watch and you show up halfway through the third. What the hell! I mean do you have any idea how worried I was?” Sylvain’s voice cracks on the last few words, his jaw clenching tight to stop himself from crying again.

Ingrid is a little startled to be honest. She expected some comments about her being a hypocrite or something like that, not this. “Sylvain, I’m sorry. Are you okay?” Ingrid asks gently.

Sylvain sighs and runs a hand over his face. Then he shakes his head. Ingrid walks over and takes him by the arm, leading him outside where they can talk. Ingrid wants to ask him more about why he is so upset, but Sylvain doesn’t give her the chance.

“What were you even doing that kept you out so late?” Sylvain asks, once they are far enough away from the tent.

Ingrid hesitates, not know how much she can even say. She’s not sure how Sylvain would react to hearing that she was spending time with an enemy soldier or whether or not he would agree not to tell anyone else. She has a feeling the information would not go over well the night before a battle.

“I just lost track of time,” Ingrid says unconvincingly.

Sylvain narrows his eyes at Ingrid. “You’re lying. What could you possibly need to hide from me, Ingrid?” He says, clearly trying desperately to not to sound as hurt as he is.

Ingrid sighs, grasping at words in her mind to try and explain everything, but they keep slipping out of her hands. “I-I’ll tell you about it later, Sylvain, after the battle. We need to get some sleep, and, by tomorrow, it may not matter anymore anyway,” Ingrid says darkly.

Sylvain doesn’t seem to like this answer, but he swallows hard and doesn’t argue. “Okay, yeah, sure, Ingrid, whatever,” He says, his voice short and clipped. He starts to turn back to his tent.

“Sylvain, wait,” Ingrid calls quietly.

“What?” Sylvain says, turning around.

Ingrid steps forward and wraps her arms around him. It takes a moment for Sylvain to reciprocate the hug, but when he does, his grip is vice like and he buries his face into her shoulder. Ingrid knows how much Sylvain likes hugs, how much they calm him down and make him feel safe, and how no matter the circumstance he will never ever admit that. She also knows how much his father and brother had teased him for being affectionate when they were younger, so she understands why he is reluctant when it come to hugs.

“I’m sorry,” Ingrid murmurs into the hug. She’s not sure exactly what she’s apologizing for, but she doesn’t think it matters.

“You can’t get mad when I tease you about this later,” Sylvain mutters quietly. Ingrid chuckles, knowing that he is right.

When Sylvain finally pulls away, after several minutes, he looks a little bit better. Ingrid calls that a victory, because at this point, they need all the victories they can get, big or small.

“Night, Ingrid,” Sylvain says, not really meeting her eyes.

“Goodnight, Sylvain,” Ingrid calls after him as she heads back to her own tent.

Dorothea comes back to camp with her heart heavy. She wants nothing more than to go to sleep dreaming of a world where she doesn’t have to fight the next day. Unfortunately, when she arrives at the barracks, she finds Hubert waiting in the shadows outside her room.

“Good evening, Hubie,” Dorothea says tightly, not waiting for the strange man to emerge. After five years, Dorothea has learned to spot him easily, as long as he wasn’t trying too hard. He kind of hates her doing that, but Dorothea could hardly care less.

“Dorothea,” Hubert greets, a slight gruffness to his voice that tells Dorothea that he was irritated by her spotting him. “Did you enjoy galavanting around town?” There is venom in the question, an accusation. Dorothea ignores it.

“Yes, I did indeed, thank you for asking,” Dorothea says with a false sweetness just to spite him.

Hubert scowls. “You know, some might consider it treason to endanger a mission by staying up late socializing the night before a battle, especially if your choice of company happened to be an enemy soldier,” He sneers, an arrogant smile twitching on his face.

“Good thing it’s not up to you then, huh, Hubie?” Dorothea says evenly even as her heart jumps at the taunt. Although, a small part of Dorothea is utterly relieved to know that Hubert, or whoever informed him, did not manage to recognize Ingrid. Something tells Dorothea that it’s safer for everyone if they don’t know.

Hubert’s glare intensifies and he scoffs at Dorothea. “Your conduct is ill fitting for someone who spends so much time with Her Majesty,” He says, voice full of distaste.

Dorothea meets Hubert’s glare with one of her own. The days are long past when she would be afraid of a look. “The same could be said about you, Hubie,” She says, mirroring his distaste.

After a split second, Hubert laughs slightly. “Fair,” He says, conceding to Dorothea’s point. “I suggest you retire for the rest of the night to avoid causing anymore trouble.”

“I never intended anything else. Good night, Hubie,” Dorothea says with a sigh, walking over to her room. She doesn’t hear Hubert leave, but she can tell when he is gone, which is a relief in and of itself.


	4. Act Two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Once the first arrow is fired, the army charges forward to meet the enemy. It doesn’t take long for Ingrid to lose herself in the rhythm of battle, her ears ringing with the sound of swords colliding and feet beating against the ground. She focuses on each soldier as they come to her, not letting herself look too far into enemy lines, afraid of the faces she’d see.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh boy, here we go! Moment of truth! Now we get to the really good shit!  
> If you can't tell, I'm excited. I really hope you guys enjoy this!

The day of the battle comes quickly and Ingrid is getting her armor on before the sun has even begun to rise. She bids a quick goodbye to Annette and Mercedes, before heading out of the tent to meet up with Sylvain so they can prep their horses together. She greets him wordlessly and they walk in silence to the camp’s makeshift stable, the weight of the morning pressing in on them.

“Felix said he wasn’t going to wait for us, so we’ll see him at the briefing,” Sylvain breaks the silence as he drags his saddle off its rack. There is a bitterness to his voice that doesn’t usually accompany Felix’s antics.

“Annette and Mercedes were planning on grabbing some breakfast when I left, so they’ll probably be late,” Ingrid says, settling her own saddle on her steed. She gives the creature’s neck a few soothing strokes when it huffs from the weight. The horse looks as anxious as Ingrid feels.

“I’m surprised you didn’t join them,” Sylvain says, the ghost of some humor in his voice.

Ingrid shakes her head grimly. “Just the thought makes me feel sick. Anything I ate probably wouldn’t stay down very long.”

Sylvain nods understandingly. “I’m set to head over whenever you are,” He says, giving his horse a final pat.

Ingrid nods and grabs the reins to lead her steed away from the stable. Sylvain follows next to her as they make their way over to the west side of camp. Dedue and a few of his troops are there already, finishing up the final preparations. Felix is standing nearby as well, his arms crossed over his chest, looking more irritated than usual.

“Sylvain, Ingrid, you’re here, good,” Dedue greets them as they approach. “We are almost ready to head out. I will over the plan once everyone is here. Are Annette and Mercedes on route?”

“They may be a little late,” Ingrid says.

Dedue nods understandingly, not looking at all surprised. “I would like to begin. I trust that you can fill them in on what they miss.”

Sylvain and Ingrid nod.

“Alright, gather around then everyone!” Dedue calls, causing a few commanders and Felix to come over.

“The plan is simple. While our main forces take the outpost, we will be positioned on the forest west of the barracks, waiting to ambush any reinforcements. It’s almost certain that we will be out numbered, so remember, it’s not our goal to win the fight, just to stall them long enough for our main army to take the position. I will call for a retreat when it is clear we will lose our position, so pay attention. Does everyone understand?”

The commanders nod, and move to relay the information to their troops. Annette and Mercedes come running up only once Dedue has finished speaking. Ingrid sighs and pulls them aside to repeat the information. They both nod in understanding and Ingrid moves to mount her horse as they begin their march.

The unit makes their way through the dense forest and positions themselves just west of the outpost. They send out scouts to watch for the enemy reinforcements coming, while everyone else waits in the brush. Ingrid leans forward to run her hands through her horse’s mane to keep it calm, wishing she could do the same for herself. Her chest feels tight as she waits to see those familiar faces appear from within the enemy forces.

There is electricity in the air when the scouts come back. One speaks directly to Dedue, whose face remains expressionless. He turns and commands his own units before addressing his other allies.

“We are going out to meet them as they approach,” Dedue says before moving out of the forest into the open.

Ingrid nudges her horse to follow, positioning herself along side Dedue. Sylvain sidles up next to her and she can hear him let out a long breath. It takes a moment for Ingrid to be able to see the enemy troops approaching, but once she can, her muscles tense. Ingrid’s mount whines in response to her anxiety.

Once the first arrow is fired, the army charges forward to meet the enemy. It doesn’t take long for Ingrid to lose herself in the rhythm of battle, her ears ringing with the sound of swords colliding and feet beating against the ground. She focuses on each soldier as they come to her, not letting herself look too far into enemy lines, afraid of the faces she’d see.

At some point during the fight, Ingrid loses sight of Sylvain and Dedue and gets backed up against the forest line away from the rest of her troops. She is cornered by two soldiers and can see a third one coming toward her. Ingrid quickly dismounts, knowing that there is no room for her to make a break for it and that she can’t take them all on while on horse back. She pushes her horse into the forest for cover and turns to face the now three enemies closing in on her.

One of the Adrestian soldiers swipes at Ingrid with their spear as they near her. Ingrid blocks it easily and lunges forward for a counterattack. Unfortunately, the counterattack leaves her open to the other soldiers and she narrowly dodges one’s attack while getting sliced under her off arm by the other. Her muscles burn from the cut, but she grits her teeth through the pain and throws a jab at her attackers. It falls short, but it forces the enemy soldiers to back up, giving Ingrid a little more space.

Ingrid pants heavily as she throws a few more sloppy jabs to maintain the distance between her and the enemy soldiers. It doesn’t keep the distance for long though, two of the soldiers lunging at her as soon as her lance recedes. Ingrid has to take a step back in order to block both hits, but she rushes forward immediately after to throw one of her own. She slams her spearhead into the hands of one of the soldiers, causing them to drop their axe with a shout, and then Ingrid uses her momentum to spin the butt of her lance into the helmet of the adjacent soldier, who stumbles back. Ingrid follows up quickly with a downward swing at the disorientated soldier, causing him to collapse onto the ground.

Ingrid isn’t given time to revel in this victory, though, as only a second after finishing her swing, an arrow comes flying at her shoulder, piercing through the armor and imbedding shallowly in her dominant arm. Ingrid gasps and stumbles back. The remaining soldier sees their opening, runs forward and kicks Ingrid to the ground.

Ingrid feels her body hit the ground, a dull jolt passing through her body and the sounds of battle becoming muffled from the rushing of blood in her ears. She manages to raise her lance just in time to block a downward strike of a sword. The swordsman pushes down hard on her lance and she strains to hold it up, her wounded arms burning from pain and exhaustion. Ingrid’s mind races, the edges of her vision growing dark as a stark reminder that she can’t last much longer.

Suddenly, Ingrid feels the familiar burning sensation of healing magic flowing through her body, patching up the wounds on her body and returning the strength to her arms. Ingrid grunts and shoves the swordsman’s blade away before rolling to the side and getting to her feet. She turns to the soldier, who is coming at her with another attack. Ingrid blocks the strike easily and sends a jab at the soldier’s torso. When the soldier groans and shrinks back, Ingrid sweeps her lance at their legs, knocking them solidly onto the ground with a thud.

Now that Ingrid is out of immediate danger, she glances at the battle around her. She hadn’t thought that Mercedes or Annette were anywhere nearby, so she has no idea who could have healed her. It only takes a few seconds for Ingrid to spot Dorothea about 100 yards away, their eyes inexplicably meeting across the battlefield. Dorothea’s hands are raised in the finishing motion of a physic spell and Ingrid instantly understands.

Ingrid gives Dorothea a grateful nod, hoping that it is enough to express all the things that Ingrid can’t say. Dorothea nods back in acknowledgement, her expression grave. It takes a long moment for them to break eye contact, even as the fight continues to rage around them.

It takes Ingrid being narrowly missed by another arrow to break out of her trance. She shakes the fog out of her head and rushes to grab her horse and head back into the battle. She goes to find where more of her allies are, riding out in front of Mercedes to stop a swordsman from reaching her.

The battle continues, and it doesn’t take much to realize that they are losing. There are just too many imperial soldiers and they are being quickly over run. But Dedue hasn’t called for retreat yet, so Ingrid continues to fight. At some point, she sees Sylvain fall back from the front line out of the corner of her eye, clutching his side and looking battered. She ignores the twinge in her stomach at the sight, and moves to take Sylvain’s place fighting alongside Felix.

The Kingdom soldiers are thinning quickly and becoming scattered and disorganized in many places. Despite the fact that Felix and Ingrid have managed to break the empire’s front line, it is clear that the call for retreat will come very soon.

Ingrid finishes up plunging her lance into an unfortunate archer and turns to locate Felix again, who is easily lost in the chaos of battle. However, when Ingrid finds Felix, she almost freezes in the of middle the battlefield. 

Ingrid’s mind goes blank, her body going into overdrive. She can hardly hear anything over the sound of her own pounding heart as her heels kick hard into her horse to spur it forward. When she screams “ _ Felix, no! _ ” it sounds distorted and far away, like she is underwater. Her lance is in her hands and she is riding hard to where Felix is raising his sword.

The next thing Ingrid knows, she is underneath Felix’s strike, his sword colliding with her lance. Dorothea is on the ground behind Ingrid, her hands thrown up in a useless attempt to protecting herself.

It takes a second for Felix to realize what has happened. When he does, his eyes meet Ingrid’s and his face contorts in disgust, his hands gripping tighter on his sword.

“What the fuck, Ingrid!” Felix snarls over the din of battle. His sword presses hard into Ingrid’s lance, biting into the handle.

Ingrid tries to say something, anything to explain how she ended up in this situation, but no sound comes out of her mouth. Her throat feels tight and hot and her breath comes in short, ineffective puffs.

Distantly, the call to retreat rings through the air. It is enough to get Felix to withdraw his blade.

Felix glances over his shoulder for a moment, knowing he has to retreat with them unless he wants to be captured. He turns, snarling at Ingrid one more time before retreating. “Fuck you, you  _ traitor _ !” 

Felix’s voice is the first thing that Ingrid hears clearly over the sound of her own ragged breathing, and it cuts right through her. Ingrid stays frozen as she watches her allies retreat, unable to make her own body move with them. She can’t seem to think or feel or do anything. 

Dorothea gets to her feet behind Ingrid. Her eyes are locked on Ingrid’s unmoving form. She doesn’t have time to say anything to Ingrid before Caspar rushes over.

“Hey, there’s still one left!” Caspar shouts, raising his fists to attack Ingrid.

Dorothea jumps in front of Caspar, barely managing to get him to skid to a stop. “Caspar, no!” She says and when he meets her with a confused look, she continues, “She saved my life.”

Caspar seems to understand and he backs down. He looks uncomfortable and uncertain now that he doesn’t have anything to attack. Ferdinand comes up from behind Caspar, evaluating the situation as the highest ranking officer there.

“While that may be true, Dorothea, she is still armed and dangerous and we cannot be sure of her intentions,” Ferdinand says, throwing a wary look at the mounted rider, his weapon raised in his hand.

Dorothea looks at Ferdinand for a moment, before slowly approaching Ingrid’s side. She lays a gentle, hesitant hand on Ingrid’s back. “Ingrid, dear,” Dorothea says too quietly for the boys to hear.

Ingrid registers Dorothea’s voice and hand through the strange, empty chaos in her head, like the clear ring of a church bell through a thunder storm. She lets her arm go limp at her side, the lance sliding from her grip and falling to the ground.

“Okay, then,” Ferdinand says, lowering his own lance, his brow furrowed. “We should put her with the rest of the prisoners and get going. The report from the outpost is that they were overwhelmed and we lost the position. We need to head back and regroup. Once Edelgard arrives at the barracks, she can decide what we should do with her.”

Dorothea looks like she wants to argue, but she doesn’t say anything more. She turns and coaxes Ingrid out of her saddle before leading her to where the other captured enemy soldiers are. Ingrid doesn’t look at Dorothea as she follows her mindlessly. It hurts Dorothea to see her like this. She wants to reach out and soothe Ingrid, to interlace their fingers and try to draw her far away gaze back to the world around them. But Dorothea can’t, so she just lets her heart ache as she leaves Ingrid among the rest of the prisoners.

The march is a long one, especially since the prisoners have to walk on foot. Ingrid keeps her head down, following the set of feet in front of her. She is occasionally jostled around by the other prisoners as the imperial soldiers push them together to keep them in line. Her mind torturously replays the last few hours over and over again in her head, trying to process even a fraction of it. She sees the battlefield. She sees the blood and discarded weapons littering the ground around their thinning forces. She sees Felix knock Dorothea to the ground and raise his sword in a final strike. She sees Felix’s betrayed expression from the other side of his blade.

Ingrid is jolted out of her thoughts as the feet in front of her stop. She finally looks up to see that they have arrived at the imperial outpost just as the sun has begun to set. The prisoners are dispersed and redistributed into rudimentary sleeping areas. Before Ingrid can be processed by the soldiers though, she is pulled out of the group by a familiar face and led away.

“You’re going to be placed in a separate room until Edelgard arrives and finds time to come discuss your fate with you,” Ferdinand says professionally, the wary expression in his eyes never leaving Ingrid. “I assure you that this room is in no way less secure than the rest of the prisoners, so don’t get any ideas.”

Ingrid knows that Ferdinand is referring to her making an attempt to escape, and just the thought of it makes her feel exhausted. She barely understands how she got here, much less how she would find her way out, or even if she wants to find her way out.

“A guard will bring you food at meal times and Hubert may be in to question you, but other than that no visitors will be allowed until Edelgard decides what to do with you,” Ferdinand explains, and if Ingrid didn’t know better, she might’ve thought that he was referring specifically to Dorothea.

Ingrid nods numbly as they arrive at their destination, which happens to be a dorm of sorts. It is small, plain, and strangely isolated room with an adjoining bathroom. It’s much nicer than the usual dwelling of a prisoner, so Ingrid is far from complaining. Two guards are already posted outside the doors when they get there.

“Well, here it is. I wish I could tell you when to expect Edelgard, but there are quite a few things that need to be dealt with first, so it could take some time,” Ferdinand says, turning to leave. He hesitates a moment, not moving forward, before turning back to Ingrid. “It is good to see you again, Ingrid. I know we did not know each other well at the monastery, but I’m glad that you are in good health,” He says, quickly turning to leave again, this time completing the action.

Ingrid is ushered into the dorm by the two guards and the door is promptly shut and locked behind her. She sighs as she is left alone with her thoughts once more. She explores the room to the extent that her rather plain surroundings will allow, and then lays down on the bed. She doesn’t even realize she is falling asleep, it happens so quickly.

Dorothea is in the infirmary until the sun has long sunk below the horizon, helping to patch up the wounds of the day. By the time, she and the rest of the healers have finished making their way through the injured soldiers, Dorothea is exhausted. At this point, she’s not sure which she hates more, the fighting or cleaning up after the fighting. 

Dorothea bids goodbye and good luck to the rest of the healers, some of which are preparing for night shifts in the infirmary. She is on her way to her dorm, ready to fall into a hopefully dreamless sleep, when she remembers Ingrid. She vaguely recalls seeing Ferdinand walk off with her as she was being pulled to the infirmary earlier, so he must know where Ingrid is. Dorothea immediately changes direction, heading off towards Ferdinand’s dorm instead of her own.

Dorothea doesn’t hesitate before knocking on Ferdinand’s door. His voice calls from within and she opens up the door and steps inside. Ferdinand looks up at her, his long hair tied up in a messy bun to keep it from spilling over into the paperwork he is currently working on. He looks surprised to see her there.

“Dorothea? Is there a problem at the infirmary?” Ferdinand says, getting up out of his chair.

“No, no, everything is fine. I just finished up for the night.”

“Oh, okay. What brings you here, then? Is there something I can help you with?”

Dorothea takes a deep breath before letting the words fall out of her mouth. “Where is she, Ferdie?”

It takes less than a second for Ferdinand to realize what Dorothea means, and as soon as he does, the performative politeness in his voice fades into something more serious, almost apologetic.

“She’s not authorized to have visitors until after Edelgard makes her decision on what to do with her.”

Dorothea laughs bitterly, something she finds herself doing more and more these days. “Has Edelgard even arrived yet?” She asks.

“No, she should be here tomorrow morning, assuming weather allows.”

“And we’re just going to leave Ingrid there all alone, goddess knows what going through her head, while we wait for the emperor to grace us with her presence?” Dorothea says, her voice coming out harsher than she expected.

“I’m sorry, Dorothea, they are not my orders,” Ferdinand says, and Dorothea knows he is telling the truth, but the tightness rising in her chest won’t let her accept that.

“She saved my life, Ferdie! She abandoned her country to save my life and…” Dorothea’s voice cracks, her gaze falling to the floor. “...and I didn’t even get to thank her.” Dorothea turns her head so Ferdinand can’t see the tears in her eyes.

“I’m sure she knows,” Ferdinand says gently, trying to comfort her. “And you’ll still have a chance to tell her.”

“I know, I know, I just can’t imagine what she’s going through right now,” Dorothea says, trying to keep the tears from falling from her eyes. She’s cried enough lately.

“I know I’m not your favorite person in the world, Dorothea, but you might be surprised to know that I’m often praised on the impeccable quality of my hugs. I would be happy to demonstrate if you wish,” Ferdinand says, a slight teasing smile on his lips. He opens up his arms and takes a slight step forward.

Dorothea can’t help the slight smile that comes onto her face as she rolls her eyes and steps forward to accept Ferdinand’s offered hug. His arms wrap around her shoulders in a comforting embrace. His body is strong and firm against Dorothea, having earned well defined muscles from the years at war. Even though Dorothea would’ve much preferred to be hugging Ingrid right then, she can’t say that Ferdinand’s hug is all that bad.

After a long moment, Dorothea pulls away. “Thank you,” she says softly as she moves toward the door.

“Sleep well, Dorothea,”

“You too, Ferdie,”


	5. A Proposition

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Approximately an hour passes before the door opens once more, and Ingrid immediately recognizes the red clad figure out of the corner of her eye. Ingrid keeps her gaze on the surface of the table in front of her as Edelgard approaches and takes a seat across from her.
> 
> “Ingrid Brandl Galatea,” Edelgard says, projecting her power and authority flawlessly in a confident, formal tone. “I see the sands of time have brought us together once more, though under less ideal circumstances.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh boy, it has been some time since I last updated. Whoops...  
> Anyways, everyone in this chapter is soft and tired because I am soft and tired. You guys left some really great comments on the last chapter, so thank you! I really appreciate it a lot! Hope you guys are staying safe and staying sane.  
> Enjoy!

Felix has just spent the last 15 minutes arguing with one of the guards outside the designated infirmary area who was telling him he couldn’t go in to see Sylvain because it would impede the work of the healers. Felix didn’t exactly convince her to let him in so much as he ignored her and pushed his way in anyways.

Charging into the infirmary, Felix spots Sylvain easily, his eyes immediately finding the shock of messy red hair against the army green background of the cot he’s laying on. Felix rushes over to the bed, scanning Sylvain from head to toe to evaluate his condition. There are bandages around Sylvain’s abdomen with slight red stains on them. It doesn’t look like the white magic healers have gotten to him yet.

Felix stands over Sylvain for a long moment, unable to look away from the stained fabric holding together the gash in Sylvain’s side. Felix’s throat feels tight for a reason he doesn’t understand as his eyes flicker to Sylvain’s pale, drawn face. It looks so strange in contrast to the bright, smirking expression the man usually displays, although those expressions have become less and less common as the war goes on.

Felix is so wrapped up in his thoughts, he almost jumps when Sylvain’s eyes start to flutter open.

“Felix? What are you doing here? You’re not a healer,” Sylvain murmurs softly, his voice strained and his eyes foggy.

There is something so earnest and vulnerable in Sylvain’s voice that it reminds Felix starkly of their childhood together, when they would stay up late at night talking through the darkness and Sylvain would always struggle to stay awake as long as him. The memory almost makes him not say what he came here to say. “It’s Ingrid,” He says darkly.

Sylvain eyes widen, though his gaze remains unfocused. “What happened? Is she okay?” He asks urgently.

Something sharp twists in Felix’s stomach and his gaze grows darker. “She’s a goddess-damned traitor, that’s what she is,” He growls out, his hand tightening unconsciously where it rests on the hilt of his sword.

“What are you talking about? Ingrid’s not a traitor,” Sylvain says, and the certainty in his voice makes Felix want to break something, maybe everything.

“She is. She raised her weapon against me, defended the enemy,” Felix spits out viciously.

At this point, Sylvain tries to sit up, earning himself a sharp stab of pain. Felix scolds him for being an idiot and helps ease him back down on the cot. Then Felix takes a seat on the ground next to the cot so Sylvain can see him without craning his neck.

“That doesn’t make any sense. Why would she do that?” Sylvain mumbles weakly, sounding much more drained after his attempt to sit up.

“Who cares why? She’s a traitor. She raised her lance against her kingdom and betrayed our home,” Felix snaps, a current of hurt buried deep in his cold tone.

“Okay, but, come on, it’s Ingrid. She wouldn’t have done something like that without a good reason,” Sylvain insists.

Felix scowls, unable to comprehend how Sylvain could be defending Ingrid after what she did. Felix is ready to yell at Sylvain, to make him realize what Ingrid’s done, force him to face the fact that they have just lost a friend, but then Sylvain lets out a soft little sigh and closes his eyes and Felix feels the words catch in his throat. He finally remembers that Sylvain still has a major injury so now might not be the best time to make him face the harsh reality.

When Sylvain doesn’t open his eyes for a good minute, Felix assumes he has fallen asleep and starts to get to his feet. However, he hasn’t even taken a full step when he feels a hand catch his wrist, causing him to freeze.

“Felix?” Sylvain murmurs weakly, still not opening his eyes. “Stay a little longer? I don’t want to be alone.”

It only takes a second for Felix to decide to stay. He nods slightly even though he knows Sylvain can’t see him and sits back down by Sylvain’s head. “You sound like a child,” Felix sneers, but there isn’t really any edge to his voice.

Dorothea is doing a shift in the infirmary the next morning when Edelgard arrives at camp. She can tell that the Emperor has arrived because everyone around her starts moving around with a renewed energy and conviction. Dorothea has to stop herself from abandoning her post to go talk Edelgard into seeing to Ingrid’s fate sooner. Dorothea certainly thinks she could convince the emperor, but perhaps it’s not the wisest decision, especially considering Hubert is already planning for her murder.

Instead, Dorothea pushes down her knawing anxiety and guilt and starts checking in with the injuried soldiers. She’s not as conversational as she usually is with the patients, not really feeling it that morning. In fact, despite the full night of sleep she had gotten, she could still feel the fatigue in her body, weighing her down and making every movement feel like moving through water.

Later, Dorothea is taking a lunch break with Lindhardt under a tree near the infirmary when Hubert materializes next to her.

“Hello, Hubert,” Dorothea greets pleasantly only casting a disinterested glance at the man towering over her.

“Her majesty requests your presence at the earliest convenience,” Hubert says sharply.

From the thinly veiled irritation in Hubert’s voice and the way he glares at her, Dorothea would wager a guess that he had just gotten into an argument with Edelgard, probably about Ingrid or herself, and more than likely it was an argument that he lost. Dorothea can’t help a bit of smug satisfaction at that fact.

“Of course, I will head over right away,” Dorothea says, quickly bidding goodbye to a mostly asleep Lindhardt and starting off to Edelgard’s temporary office space.

Dorothea arrives to find Edelgard just finishing up discussing something with a group of lieutenants. Dorothea waits patiently at the door, watching the soldiers leave, until Edelgard waves her in. Dorothea closes the door on her way in to give the emperor some sorely needed privacy and she definitely doesn’t miss the small relieved sigh that Edelgard lets out once the lock clicks.

“Hey, Edie,” Dorothea greets with a warm smile.

Edelgard looks up from the papers on her desk and gives Dorothea a weary smile in return. “Greetings, Dorothea. You may have a seat if you like,” Edelgard says in her usual professional tone as she shuffles her papers off to the side and shifts her attention to Dorothea.

While Dorothea is anxious to discuss Ingrid and what will happen to her, She hasn’t seen Edelgard in almost a month and is temporarily sidetracked by checking in with her friend. “How are you faring lately, Edie?” Dorothea asks, a faint crease of concern on her face.

Edelgard gives a dry chuckle at the question. “I am managing well enough, Dorothea, thank you. I’m just looking forward to heading back to the monastery to finalize our next move.”

Dorothea smirks a little at the far away look Edelgard gets in her eye at the mention of the monastery. “Oh yes, and I’m sure it has nothing to do with a certain professor who has recently come back from the dead,” Dorothea teases.

Edelgard’s face immediately flushes, although her serious expression barely falters. “I’m sure I don’t know, nor would approve of, what you’re insinuating, Dorothea.”

Dorothea laughs, entirely satisfied with the reaction she has provoked. “ _ Sure _ , Edie,” She says suggestively.

Edelgard clears her throat and absently shuffles some papers in an attempt to regain her composure. “Regardless, I asked you here to discuss the situation with the newest prisoner of interest,” Edelgard says, her voice easily settling back into her usual detached tone.

Dorothea feels herself bristle at the way Edelgard refers so coldly to one of their old classmates. “Ingrid,” Dorothea clarifies, her previous smile disappearing.

“Yes, Ingrid,” Edelgard says, the slightest hint of melancholy in her voice. “Hubert has given me an idea of the situation, but if you could recall the events of the last battle and any other interactions with her that may be relevant to me understanding the situation fully, that would be helpful.”

Dorothea takes a deep breath in preparation to recount the events of the last two days. She hardly even considers hiding anything from Edelgard, because despite how poorly the truth will reflect on her, it will certainly help Ingrid’s case. She starts at the beginning with her and Ingrid’s chance encounter in the city and ends with the moment Ingrid jumped in front of the sword that would’ve killed Dorothea.

Once Dorothea has finished, Edelgard is silent for a long moment, a thoughtful expression on her face. “Thank you, Dorothea. I believe that’s all I need from you,” Edelgard says impassively, breaking the tense silence.

“Edie, she…” Dorothea starts, fully prepared to continue to argue Ingrid’s case until her throat is sore, but Edelgard holds up a hand to stop her.

“I understand your concern, Dorothea, but it is wholly unnecessary. Ingrid is an especially strong and skilled warrior. If there is any chance that she can be our ally instead of our enemy then I will find a way, I assure you.”

Dorothea lets out a sigh, feeling some of the tension leave her chest. “Thank you, Edie.”

“There is no need to thank me. Nothing is decided yet. Ingrid must be willing to cooperate as well,” Edelgard says, getting to her feet. “Regardless, I will let you know how it goes as soon as I can.”

Dorothea nods, not trusting herself to say anything more. She bids goodbye to Edelgard and the two part ways, Edelgard heading off to meet with Ingrid and Dorothea making her way back to the infirmary. Dorothea gets back to work treating injuried soldiers, her stomach churning to the point where she doesn’t think she could stomach eating anything for dinner.

Ingrid wakes up to a tray of food placed just inside her room. One glance at it leaves her feeling sick to her stomach in a way she doesn’t think she’s ever felt before. She has no idea what time it is, having no window in the room she is imprisoned in. Ingrid has barely moved to sit up in bed before she suddenly wishes that she were still asleep. Seeing as there wasn’t exactly anything for her to do while locked away in a single tiny room, she lies back down and lets herself fall back into oblivion.

Later, although goddess knows how much later, Ingrid is woken by a knock on the door. She struggles to shake the fog of oversleeping as a voice calls incoherently from the other side of the door. Ingrid grumbles and sits up in the bed just in time to see the door open, revealing Hubert and three accompanying soldiers behind it.

“On your feet,” Hubert orders coldly, his gaze harsh and watchful.

Ingrid isn’t sure what is happening, but she has been following orders for most of her life, so her body obeys without her needing to really think about it. The soldiers flank her as they lead her away from her room. For a moment, Ingrid considers that she might be getting executed. The thought doesn’t make her panic as much as she would’ve expected and she’s not sure what to make of that.

Hubert takes Ingrid to a small room, even smaller than her previous. There is only a table and two chairs inside. The soldiers push her inside and then Hubert addresses her.

“The Emperor will be here shortly to discuss your fate,” Hubert says sharply. “The Emperor is being merciful and giving you a chance to be of use. I suggest you don’t take this opportunity for granted. I also strongly advise that you do not mistake the Emperor’s mercy for weakness, because it will not end well, I assure you.”

And then Hubert is gone, the door closing in Ingrid’s face before she has a chance to process the various threats she had just been given.

Ingrid sighs, takes a seat at the table, and waits.

Approximately an hour passes before the door opens once more, and Ingrid immediately recognizes the red clad figure out of the corner of her eye. Ingrid keeps her gaze on the surface of the table in front of her as Edelgard approaches and takes a seat across from her.

“Ingrid Brandl Galatea,” Edelgard says, projecting her power and authority flawlessly in a confident, formal tone. “I see the sands of time have brought us together once more, though under less ideal circumstances.”

Ingrid feels a spark of irritation flare in her chest as soon as Edelgard speaks. Edelgard is the one who started all of this, who plunged Fodlan into complete and total war. Ingrid has lost friends because of Edelgard. Ingrid has lost her country because of Edelgard. Ingrid knew she had her reasons, and it’s not like Ingrid had had anything against Edelgard in their time at the monastery, but in her current position, she isn’t exactly inclined to be sympathetic.

“Do you have a point?” Ingrid sneers quietly, her eyes remaining locked on the table.

Edelgard doesn’t even falter. “Indeed, I do. I have a proposition for you, Ingrid. Neither of us would particularly benefit from you being executed or being locked away until the end of the war, so I propose a mutual arrangement.”

Ingrid lets out a sharp, bitter laugh. “And why would I ever agree to something like that? Do you really expect me to trust you?”

Edelgard once again seems unfazed and it stokes the angry flames in Ingrid’s chest.

“No, I’m not going to ask you to trust me, and under no circumstances will I trust you any time soon. However, I think there is something that we can both rely on enough that will make us allies instead of enemies.”

“What?” Ingrid bites out.

“Dorothea,” Edelgard says simply, a certain smugness appearing on her face when Ingrid’s hostility falters.

“What are you talking about?” Ingrid asks hesitantly, trying not to show how much the mear mention of the other woman affects her.

“It’s simple. I will not ask you to raise your weapon against your kingdom, but rather, anyone who may harm Dorothea. I will not ask you to fight for the empire, but rather, for Dorothea’s safety. I will assign you as her personal adjutant so that your sole purpose will being making sure that she is protected on the battlefield, regardless of who we are fighting,” Edelgard explains.

Ingrid is silent for a long time, attempting to process Edelgard’s offer. Even though every part of her being rejects the idea of fighting for the empire, for Edelgard, she can’t really see any better option. There is no way the kingdom will accept her back after what’s she’s done. She doesn’t know how she will ever see her friends again, much less be able to face them. Not to mention, she doesn’t exactly have a home there anymore. It’s probably only a matter of days before her father makes her disownment official.

Ingrid has never felt more lost and alone in her life, and here is the Emperor of Adrestia offering her a life line, that life line being one of the most beautiful and kind people she’s ever met in her life. What else could she possibly say?

“Okay,” Ingrid says quietly, her stomach sinking as soon as the word leaves her mouth. If only her father could see what a disgrace she had become, he’d surely strip her of the name Galatea.

“I’m glad we could come to an agreement, Ingrid. I truly do believe that you have a place here, and I hope you come to understand what we are working for. In the mean time, your freedom will be limited, and all of your duties will be dictated by Dorothea. Your lance and steed will be returned to you before the next battle.”

Ingrid finally manages to meet Edelgard’s gaze just as the Emperor is getting to her feet. Ingrid had never really spent much time looking at Edelgard’s eyes in the past, so she’s almost struck, having forgotten just how purple the woman’s eyes were. Her expression is powerful, and commanding, and just a little bit kind as well. 

In meeting her eyes, Ingrid had expected to feel hate and resentment for all the pain Edelgard has caused her, but instead the anger in her chest dampens and she can’t help but feel immense respect for the Emperor.

“Thank you,” Ingrid murmurs, her stomach churning at the guilt that saying those words brings.

Edelgard halts in her step toward the door and looks at Ingrid for a long moment. Then she shakes her head slightly and says, “Just take care of her, Ingrid.”

Ingrid nods, knowing that, despite all of the confusion in her head, protecting Dorothea is one thing she knows is the right thing to do.

Edelgard smiles a little at the response before heading out the door. The soldiers outside the door then escort Ingrid back to her room, informing her that one of them will come to escort her to the dining hall for dinner in an hour. Ingrid settles back onto the bed and stares up at the ceiling, hoping that there is some minute chance that she will find the answers to her problems in the slight cracks in the wood above her.

Dorothea is preforming an illness prevention spell on a woman when a soldier comes up to her. She quickly finishes the spell and turns to the man expectantly. The soldier informs her that Edelgard has finished speaking to Ingrid, that Ingrid is now to be Dorothea’s adjudant, and that she may now go and see her, if she so wishes. The soldier also offers to escort her to make sure the prisoner doesn’t try anything, but she immediately turns him down, biting back a much harsher retort.

Dorothea quickly informs the healers that she has other business to attend to and then practically runs out of the infirmary. As she makes her way to where Ingrid is being held, Dorothea’s stomach swirls with nervous anticipation. She can’t deny being excited just to see Ingrid again.

Dorothea knocks on the door, but there is no answer from within. She hesitates, momentarily doubting herself before knocking again. This time she can hear some movement from behind the thin wooden door and after a few seconds the door swings open to reveal a rather disheartening picture of Ingrid Brandl Galatea.

Ingrid is still dressed in her singed, blood and dirt stained armor that she had been wearing during the battle, the presence of which forcibly reminds Dorothea of how close both of them had come to dying just a day prior. Ingrid’s eyes are sunken and outlined by dark shadows and heavy bags that portray the deep exhaustion that Dorothea still feels from the battle, which she can only imagine is exponential worse for Ingrid. Ingrid’s hair is greasy and disorganized in a way that Dorothea can tell that she has spent too much time in bed today, not that she blames her for doing so.

“Dorothea?” Ingrid says, uncertainly, her eyes brightening in a way that feels like a relief to Dorothea.

“Ingrid,” Dorothea says, hesitating momentarily at how to address the sheer weight of everything that had brought them to this moment. “I came to see how you were doing. I would’ve come sooner, but I wasn’t allowed.”

“Oh,” Ingrid says, freezing uncertainly in place for a long moment. It takes a little while for her to break out of the trance, shaking her head to clear her thoughts. “Um, sorry, would you like to come in?”

“I’d love to,” Dorothea says with a soft smile.

Ingrid steps out of the doorway, allowing Dorothea inside. She continues to stand awkwardly by the doorway as Dorothea moves further into the room. The silence that envelops them is tense and uncertain.

“So, how are you doing, Ingrid?” Dorothea gently repeats her question.

Ingrid’s gaze falls from Dorothea’s emerald eyes to the tattered boots on her feet. “I don’t really know,” She says with a sad shake of her head.

“I’m sorry, Ingrid. Do you want to talk about it?” Dorothea asks, her heart aching at the pain on Ingrid’s face.

Ingrid shakes her head. She wouldn’t even know where to start.

“Ingrid,” Dorothea says, drawing Ingrid’s gaze back up to her as she takes a step forward, “I didn’t get a chance before, but I really wanted to thank you for saving my life. I am forever grateful.”

Ingrid’s brow furrows a little at that. “Of course,” She insists with more certainty that she has felt in a long time.

The corners of Dorothea’s mouth flicker up at that. She takes another step toward Ingrid, reaching a hand out to tentatively rest on Ingrid’s upper arm. “Is there anything I can do to help you right now?”

Ingrid’s gaze falls to the floor again and she nervously shifts in place. She seems to debate with herself for a long moment before softly murmuring, “Stay with me a little longer?”

Dorothea’s heart skips a beat at the simple, tentative request. Dorothea lets her hand run lightly down Ingrid’s arm before threading their fingers together. “Of course, dear,” She says, smiling at the familiar blush on Ingrid’s cheeks.

As Ingrid lets Dorothea pull her by the hand over to the bed, the confused chaos in Ingrid’s head settles a little for the first time all day. Dorothea sits down on the bed and pats the spot next to her for Ingrid, who takes the seat happily. Ingrid feels her whole body relax as she allows Dorothea to maneuver her so that she is leaning back into Dorothea, arms wrapped lightly around her shoulders and fingers intertwined.

Ingrid murmurs softly, her brain finally turning off as she nestles into Dorothea’s warmth. There is a slight vibration behind her as Dorothea chuckles fondly. It doesn’t take long for them to fall into comfortable silence, once again content to temporarily ignore the chaos of the world in favor of each other.


	6. Marching Out

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When Dorothea is informed that she will be riding for the journey back to Garreg Mach, she cringes internally. Dorothea considers herself a graceful woman, but not when she is perched atop a large, temperamental animal. Still, Dorothea doesn’t complain, partially because complaining is a luxury that can rarely be afforded during a war and partially because she knows that riding will certainly brighten Ingrid’s mood, so she supposes it’s worth the sacrifice.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh, boy, it has been a hot second (re: 7 months). Honestly I kinda fell out of this fandom for a while, partly because my brother took our switch to his dorm and partly because I was busy being anxious about, well, everything. (I am officially a college dropout after 1 semester, lmao)  
> That being said, thanks so much for sticking with me if you're still reading! You're all amazing and I love you!  
> Also, I think it was pretty obvious from the start that I was projecting my confused gender issues onto Ingrid, and honestly writing this definitely helped me a lot when figuring myself out. That being said, I'm actually nonbinary (she/they). It doesn't really have an impact on the fic, except the trans man part in the tags is no longer applicable, but I thought it would be nice to share, considering this fic ended up being a lot more personal than I meant it to be.  
> Thanks again for reading and tolerating my oversharing. I really appreciate it. I hope you guys are living your best lives, at least as well as you can right now.  
> Enjoy!
> 
> Also I was writing this at like ten at night and it took me 20 minutes to think of the word stir up.

The next day, the Emperor and a good portion of her troops prepare to travel back to Garreg Mach to regroup for their next move. Even though it is a tense and difficult task to determine what is the optimal next step in the war effort, returning to the monastery is always a boost to the morale of the army. Most soldiers look forward to being reunited with friends from other troops and assignments and the few days of respite they will get while the plan of action is deliberated.

Ingrid is woken up by two guards and brought, with no explanation, to the stables, where she finds Ferdinand. For a moment, Ingrid thinks she is experiencing deja vu, but then Ferdinand calls to her, breaking her out of her thoughts.

“Ah, good morning, Ingrid,” Ferdinand says with the unfortunate cheerfulness of a morning person at the crack of dawn. “I hope you slept well. We have a long road ahead of us.”

Ingrid murmurs noncommittally, knowing full well that she got next to no sleep last night.

“Either way, we’ll be back at Garreg Mach before you know it,” Ferdinand says, irritatingly positive. “Oh, Ingrid, pass me that saddlebag, would you?”

Ingrid follows the instructions mostly on autopilot, heaving the heavy leather into Ferdinand’s arms. She has no idea why she is here or why she’s with Ferdinand instead of Dorothea, but she does know how to follow orders and just assumes that someone will tell her eventually.

After a few moments of working in silence, Ferdinand says, “Edelgard informed me of your arrangement. I’m glad things worked out well enough. In any case, given that you’re now Dorothea’s adjucant, the two of you will be making this journey on your steed. I’ve already prepped her this morning and, I must say, she is a very fine horse.”

Ingrid furrows her brow at the idea of riding with Dorothea, distinctly remembering a time when Dorothea turned down an offer to go riding with her because she was “not made for riding.” Ingrid considers asking Ferdinand if Dorothea had grown more comfortable riding in the past five years, but she decides it’s probably easiest to just say nothing.

Ferdinand gives Ingrid a bit of a concerned look at her blank silence but says nothing about it as they continue to prep the horses together.

When Dorothea is informed that she will be riding for the journey back to Garreg Mach, she cringes internally. Dorothea considers herself a graceful woman, but not when she is perched atop a large, temperamental animal. Still, Dorothea doesn’t complain, partially because complaining is a luxury that can rarely be afforded during a war and partially because she knows that riding will certainly brighten Ingrid’s mood, so she supposes it’s worth the sacrifice.

Dorothea takes a few more minutes packing a travel bag, making sure to include something to eat along the trip, before heading over to where the returning troops are gathered to prepare for the march. Dorothea navigates the groups of soldiers milling around or prepping caravans, her eyes surveying her surroundings in search of her knight.

Dorothea eventually spots Ingrid off to one side, standing awkwardly next to Ferdinand as he and Caspar argue about something. Ingrid’s gaze is located squarely on the ground save for the occasional glance at her horse as she pats its haunches affectionately. Dorothea can’t help but smile a little as she approaches.

“Good morning,” Dorothea greets, her cheerful tone only a little forced.

Ferdinand and Caspar are too wrapped up in their argument, a surely pointless one, to notice Dorothea, but Ingrid’s head snaps up immediately. Her eyes are blood shot and Dorothea can’t help but relate to her presumably restless sleep. On the other hand, there is color in Ingrid’s face instead of a pale look of dread, which Dorothea assumes has something to do with the fresh air and being reunited with her horse.

“Morning,” Ingrid says with a slight smile.

They just look at each other for a moment, until Ferdinand notices Dorothea’s presence.

“Ah, Dorothea, good to see you have arrived,” Ferdinand says, clearly trying to shake off his frustration from talking with Caspar. “I assume you were informed that you will be riding with Ingrid today.”

Dorothea tries not to visibly cringe, casting a wary look at the creature next to her. “Yes, I was informed,” She says ruefully. She glances at Ingrid, finding a fond, almost teasing smile on her face.

“Wonderful! I believe we are to be departing soon, so it might be wise to begin mounting,” Ferdinand says, turning to find his own horse. Caspar casts one more comment at Ferdinand before going off to take his position as well, causing Ferdinand to huff as he walks away.

Dorothea ignores the antics of her allies, turning reluctantly to the beast she is to ride. She hears a slight chuckle to her side as she watches the horse apprehensively.

“You look like you’re being asked to jump into a volcano,” Ingrid teases lightly. The exhaustion and stress are still present in her voice, but she sounds a bit like herself.

“A volcano is more predictable,” Dorothea complains, “one might even say preferable.”

Ingrid laughs again. “It’s not that bad. I know how to keep her steady.”

“I suppose I do trust you,” Dorothea says reluctantly, taking the tiniest step closer to the animal. “So, how do I get on this thing?”

“There’s nothing to it. You just get your foot in the little step here and then you just swing yourself over,” Ingrid explains. After seeing the look on Dorothea’s face, she adds, “Don’t worry, I’ll help.”

Dorothea nods gratefully, taking another hesitant step forward. She stands staring at the creature for a long moment until Ingrid prompts her.

“So, just put your foot there,” Ingrid says, pointing, “and then I’ll keep you steady while you get over. And Rosie will stay nice and steady for you too, won’t you girl?” Ingrid adds, patting the horse’s side lovingly.

The horse makes a soft noise, as if answering Ingrid.

Dorothea takes a deep breath, throws one more glance at Ingrid, and raises her foot into the stir up. She’s not really sure where to go from there, but before she can ask, she feels Ingrid’s hands on her waist.

“Ready?” Ingrid asks softly, her voice closer than Dorothea expects.

Ingrid’s hands are strong and steady on Dorothea’s hips and she does sound certain, so after a moment, Dorothea nods and steps up. Ingrid’s hands move with Dorothea’s body, keeping her balanced and moving into the right place as she manages to throw her leg over the other side of the horse.

Dorothea holds her breath for a good five seconds once she is seated in the saddle, but just like Ingrid said, the horse doesn’t move and she does not, in fact, fall off. Ingrid’s hands still linger on Dorothea’s hips though, and Dorothea almost doesn’t want them to leave. She is in good hands after all.

“Good?” Ingrid asks, looking up at Dorothea with an almost proud smile.

Dorothea feels her face heat up a little. “Yes, I am alright, or as good as I can be putting life and limb in the hooves of a horse.”

Ingrid laughs. “You’re not really putting your life in the hands of the horse, Dorothea. Scoot forward,” Ingrid says, only pausing briefly to give the direction, before placing her own foot in the stir up and hoisting herself into the saddle.

Dorothea feels the sudden solid warmth settle in the saddle behind her. She almost startles, apparently having forgotten that Ingrid would be riding _with_ her. She doesn’t know if it’s her anxiety about riding or Ingrid’s proximity, but Dorothea is feeling more flustered than she has any right to be. When Ingrid speaks again, though, Dorothea almost jumps out of her skin as the words are spoken almost directly into her ear.

“Technically, you’re really putting your life in my hands,” Ingrid says, and Dorothea can hear the slight smirk in her voice.

Dorothea lets out a nervous laugh, adjusting herself in the saddle. Despite her discomfort, Dorothea can’t help but revel how in her element Ingrid is. It’s nice to see. Dorothea contemplates something flirtatious she can say about the situation to regain some sort of advantage against Ingrid’s current confidence, but then Ingrid’s arms come around her to grab the reins and start them moving.

“Oh Goddess,” Dorothea gasps, completely losing her train of thought. One of her hands grips the front of the saddle with white knuckles and the other winds itself around Ingrid’s arm as her heart pounds in her chest. She feels like the world is trying to slip out from under her as the horse takes a few more steps, the only thing keeping her up right being Ingrid’s arms encircling her.

“Hey, it’s okay. I’ve got you,” Ingrid says, soothingly, pressing her front a little into Dorothea’s back.

Dorothea happily accepts Ingrid’s weight around her, leaning back against her like she is the only solid thing in the world. After a moment Dorothea takes a deep breath in and sighs heavily. “Goddess, this is going to be a long trip.”

Ingrid chuckles as she nudges the horse over to where Ferdinand is, assuming that they are supposed to be there as well.

“She’s a traitor!” Felix snarls.

“All I’m hearing is that our friend has been captured by the enemy. We don’t know anything more than that!” Sylvain shouts back, his hands clenched into fists.

Dedue, Annette, and Mercedes sit around a table watching Felix and Sylvain’s argument get progressively louder as they look seconds away from grabbing their weapons and battling it out right there. They had come together to discuss what had happened at the last battle, but when the subject of Ingrid came up, and Felix gave his account of the events, things devolved quickly.

“I saw it with my own two eyes, Sylvain! When are you going to grow up and see what’s really going on?” Felix snaps, his hand gripping dangerously tight on the hilt of his sword.

“I’m sorry if I actually care about Ingrid! I’m not just going to give up on her! We’ve known her our entire lives! You really think she would just abandon us for no reason!” Sylvain shouts, his voice sounding hoarse from yelling.

“I don’t care if she had a reason. It doesn’t change what she did!”

“Of course it does!”

“Alright that’s enough!” Dedue’s voice broke through the argument like the crack of thunder during a rainstorm.

Both men hesitate before backing down without another word. Neither chose to return to their long abandoned seats, opting to lean against opposite sides of the room glaring at each other.

“Regardless of how you feel about Ingrid, we don’t have the resources, nor enough information to make any effort to retrieve her at this time. I will inform our scouts to keep an eye out for any information about this, but that’s all we can do at the moment,” Dedue says, simply.

“This is fucking ridiculous,” Sylvain spits out. “She’s our friend and you all just want to leave her behind. I can’t believe this, and I can’t fucking be here right now.” Sylvain turns and storms out of the room.

There is a long moment of tense silence following Sylvain’s departure. Felix is the first one to break it.

“He’s such a child,” Felix mutters angrily, his jaw clenched tight. He scoffs once more before turning and walking out the door, presumably to go back to training.

“Well, I suppose the meeting is over now,” Dedue says after a moment, getting to his feet. “We will discuss more later.”

Annette and Mercedes share a look as Dedue leaves the room.

“I’m going to go find Sylvain. Do you want to check on Felix, Annie?” Mercedes says and Annette nods in response, the two girls exiting the room and heading off in opposite directions.

Mercedes finds Sylvain at the stables, prepping his horse. She approaches carefully from his dominant side so as not to startle him. He looks tense and jumpy, hands shaking slightly probably due to his still healing injury.

“Sylvain?” Mercedes calls to him gently, like he is a scared puppy.

He only glances at her briefly, a cold look in his eyes, before going back to saddling his horse. “What?” He snaps quietly.

“Are you alright? I know everything that is going on right now is stressful. Is there anything I can do to help?” Mercedes asks kindly, taking a tentative step forward.

Sylvain is silent for a long moment, his hands stilling against his horse, though his eyes remain on the spot where he was prepping. “I just don’t see how he can be so cold hearted. It’s good to know how easily he’d give up on me too,” Sylvain mutters bitterly.

“I’m sure that’s not true, and none of us are giving up on Ingrid. I think Felix is just hurt by what Ingrid did, regardless of her reasons.”

Sylvain scoffs. “Like Felix even has feelings.”

“He does. Annette swears she’s seen them. He’s just good at hiding them.”

“Yeah, he’s good at pretending other people’s don’t exist too,” Sylvain murmurs darkly, before shaking his head. “It doesn’t matter, I’ve got better things to do right now than worry about that asshole,” Sylvain adds, resuming his movements.

Mercedes furrows her brow. “Where are you going?”

“Don’t worry about it,” Sylvain says coldly, moving to mount his horse. He only makes it about halfway before he grunts in pain, stumbling back onto the ground, an arm around his bandaged wound. Mercedes rushes forward to support him, but he pushes her away.

“I’m fine,” Sylvain says through gritted teeth.

“Sylvain, you shouldn’t be riding until you’re fully healed. You could reopen the wound,” Mercedes scolds gently.

“I’ll be fine,” Sylvain insists sharply, his voice strained. Regardless, he moves again to mount his horse, succeeding this time with a hiss of pain. “I’ll be back tonight.”

And with that, Sylvain is gone, leaving behind a cloud of dust and a worried friend in his wake.

“And then, if you can believe it, Sir Kennell suggested that—”

“Ferdie!” Dorothea cuts Ferdinand off sharply, her voice coming out harsher than she meant it to. She takes a breath and continues in a lighter tone, “Perhaps you should go see Edelgard. I’m sure there are things that you should discuss before we reach the monastery.”

“Ah, yes, you are right!” Ferdinand replies brightly, seeming unfazed by Dorothea’s obvious annoyance. “That is a wonderful idea. Thank you, Dorothea,” He says, nudging his horse toward the caravan where Edelgard is.

Dorothea sighs deeply once Ferdinand is gone, slumping heavily against Ingrid behind her. “Hopefully Edie will forgive me for that, but I can’t take another second of him right now,” She mutters tiredly.

Dorothea feels the slight rumbles of a chuckle from the body behind her and she smiles a little. Dorothea turns a little in Ingrid’s arms so she can see the knight’s face.

“I don’t know how you managed to remain so polite. You haven’t even built up a tolerance to his blather,” Dorothea says, a joking lilt to her voice.

Ingrid hums lightly for a moment in lieu of a response. “Do you want to know my secret?” Ingrid says softly, the exhaustion clear in her voice.

“Please, impart your wisdom,” Dorothea says melodramatically.

Ingrid chuckles again and pauses for a moment, her tiredness seemingly slowing down her thought process. “The trick is I wasn’t listening,” Ingrid says, a slight mischievousness in her smile.

Dorothea laughs. “Oh, well, why didn’t I think of that,” She says sarcastically.

“Well, that’s the other trick. He’s not expecting me to respond, so I don’t have to listen.”

Dorothea laughs again, letting her head drop onto Ingrid’s shoulder until the sound fades into a sigh. “Goddess, I’m tired.”

Ingrid nods in agreement. “You might as well get some sleep. Ferdinand said it will be a few more hours before we make camp.”

Dorothea mutters an agreement, letting her head roll so her face is resting in the nape of Ingrid’s neck. She brings her arms up to rest around her abdomen and makes a soft noise as she settles in and closes her eyes.

Ingrid chuckles. After a moment, she brings her arm around Dorothea so that her hand rests on top of one of Dorothea’s.

“Both hands on the reins,” Dorothea whispers, without opening her eyes. She trusts Ingrid, but not that much.

Ingrid laughs softly, but complies, her hand going back to loosely resting around the leather straps.

However, Dorothea doesn’t want Ingrid to think that she doesn’t want her arms around her, so she adds, “Don’t worry, we can cuddle later, my dear.”

Dorothea immediately feels Ingrid stiffen and can hear her swallow thickly. She cracks her eyes open ever so slightly to see the flush on Ingrid’s neck. She smirks as she closes her eyes again and lets herself drift away.

Annette, predictably, finds Felix at the training grounds. She’s not exactly surprised to see him beating in a training dummy with several broken training swords scattering the ground around him, but it does startle her slightly. There is energy to him that she isn’t used to. She watches him for a long moment from far away, definitely not because she is scared to approach him, but he is beating that dummy very aggressively.

Annette doesn’t even know what she’s going to say, not that she usually does, but an emotional Felix is an especially hard case to crack. Felix’s emotions are… complicated and his feelings involving Sylvain are even more complicated. Plus, one wrong word and Felix will shut down, refusing to utter anything but grunts and scoffs.

Annette walks around the edge of the training grounds so she can approach Felix from somewhere he can see her coming. Not that she’s scared. She stops at least five feet away when she’s sure Felix has spotted her, his eyes flickering to her for a fraction of a second.

“Felix?” Annette says, promptly wincing as Felix splits the sword he is wielding in two.

“What?” He snaps, tossing the splintered wood behind him with the others and grabbing a new one like it is nothing. His eyes don’t meet Annette’s, but that’s basically par for the course when talking to Felix while he’s training.

“Are you okay? That meeting got pretty heated,” Annette says gently, like she is approaching a cornered animal.

“Why wouldn’t I be?” Felix snaps followed by the crack of wood against wood. “Sylvain is always like this. Immature, irrational, irritating.” Felix punctuates each adjective with a strike of his sword.

“Yeah, but this is different, right?” Annette says, continuing after a moment when she receives no response, “I mean, you guys fight, but it’s never this serious. And with Ingrid—”

“ _Don’t_.” Felix growls. “I don’t want to hear that traitor’s name.”

Annette almost flinches at the sudden anger. If she concentrates, she can’t almost hear the slight undercurrent of hurt in his voice. She pauses for a moment before saying, “I just mean that with all of the history between you guys, can you really blame Sylvain for acting irrationally? It’s not like he’s the only one.”

“What are you talking about?” Felix snaps angrily at the insinuation, spinning to face Annette for the first time since she got there.

Annette looks pointedly at the broken swords behind them. “It’s been like ten minutes.”

Felix huffs indignantly but at least has the decency to let a small amount of embarrassment grace his features. He doesn’t say anything in response, turning back to the training dummy but not quite resuming his activity.

“You know, I was going to go practice some black magic spells, if you want to join me. Maybe save us some inventory?” Annette offers carefully, a small amount of humor in her voice.

After a silent moment, Felix moves and tosses his still intact training sword carelessly onto the rack before muttering, “Sure.”

“Great!” Annette says brightly, jogging lightly to catch up with Felix, who is already halfway to the door.

“’Thea, we’re stopping.”

Dorothea wakes up to the soft, tired murmur in her ear. It takes a moment for her to process what Ingrid has said, but once she does, she only hums tiredly in response. She is then gifted with the rumbles of a barely audible chuckle from Ingrid’s chest. Dorothea smiles to herself before finally prying open her eyes.

Once Dorothea has blinked the sleep out of her eyes, she can see several other soldiers around them, dismounting and beginning to unload supplies. She sighs at the thought. She doesn’t want to move. Ingrid is so warm, and she is so tired, plus her legs basically went numb a while ago. However, before Dorothea has a chance to voice this complaint, Ingrid is already moving.

The warmth and support around Dorothea are removed so quickly that she almost slides right off the horse. Luckily, Ingrid notices and places a hand on Dorothea’s shoulder to steady her as she dismounts. How Ingrid is able to stay balanced and keep her steady while exhaustedly climbing off a living animal, Dorothea will never know.

“Ready?” Ingrid murmurs, her hands suddenly appearing on Dorothea’s waist.

Dorothea nods reluctantly. The sooner she gets off the sooner she can sleep. She raises herself up out of the saddle and swings her leg over the horse, allowing Ingrid to do all of the work of keeping her upright as she does. She settles back onto the ground, the forest floor crunching under her feet. She is abundantly glad that Ingrid’s hands don’t leave her hips because her legs instantly feel like jelly.

“You alright?” Ingrid asks, clearly seeing her instability.

“How on earth to you ride those things for so long?” Dorothea asks, tentatively testing out a step forward.

“It takes practice,” Ingrid says with a laugh. “I’m happy to guide you to where you need to go, but I have no idea where that would be.”

“The lieutenant over there should know if our tent is set up yet,” Dorothea says, pointing.

“Our tent?” Ingrid asks uncertainly, her face heating up.

“Well, you are my adjucant, and technically, you have no loyalties to anyone else here, so it might be a little hard to find anyone else willing to share a tent,” Dorothea teases.

“Right, of course,” Ingrid says, trying to keep her voice neutral at the idea.

When they make it over to the lieutenant, Dorothea speaks with him briefly and he points them in the direction of their tent. Dorothea tries to ignore the looks that Ingrid receives from the lieutenant and the other soldiers they pass, ranging from suspicious to downright hateful. She knows she shouldn’t pay them any mind, but she can’t help the way they get under her skin. She shouldn’t blame them for not trusting Ingrid, someone who was very recently an enemy soldier, but she does.

Once they reach the tent, Ingrid helps Dorothea lay down on her bed roll before going to retrieve her horse. When Ingrid returns, she has one of the saddle pouches in hand, the one that contains their water skins and a few other supplies. Ingrid sits down cross-legged on her bed roll and rummages around in the pouch before pulling out a vulnerary.

“Here, it’ll help with the soreness,” Ingrid says, passing small flask over to Dorothea. She accepts it with a quiet thanks.

“Ferdinand said we’re heading out early tomorrow, so we should probably get some sleep while we have the chance.” Ingrid says, slipping inside her bed roll.

Dorothea only nods as she drinks the strange blue liquid in her hand. It burns slightly going down her throat. She watches Ingrid settle onto her back out of the corner of her eye before she leans over to put the lamp in the tent out. Dorothea then lies down in her own bed roll but, to her frustration, feels herself grow impossibly restless after just a few moments. She tries to ignore it to no avail. She tosses and turns for a while, she’s not sure how long, before eventually sitting up and scooting over to Ingrid’s side.

“Ingrid?” Dorothea whispers softly. She feels guilty for waking Ingrid up, considering how tired she is, that is until Ingrid responds within a second, clearly not having been asleep either.

“Yes?” Ingrid says, turning onto her side to face Dorothea.

Dorothea feels her face heat up, hesitating to ask for what she wants. Hopefully, Ingrid can’t see her expression in the dark. “Could I lay with you?”

Ingrid takes a second to process the request, her tired brain running on a delay. After a moment, she nods and unravels her bed roll so there is room for both of them.

Dorothea doesn’t waste anytime nesting herself back against the warmth of Ingrid’s body. She can feel Ingrid stiffen slightly, but after a moment, her arm comes around Dorothea’s waist, drawing her in close. Dorothea smiles into the darkness and lets out a contented sigh, moving to thread their fingers together. It only takes a few seconds for them both to fall asleep after that.

**Author's Note:**

> Let me know what you think! I crave validation. 
> 
> Feel free to say hi to me on Tumblr: @Werederg  
> And If you want to see me fuck around and play video games. I also have a [twitch](https://www.twitch.tv/werederg)


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